


Together

by nomoretears24



Series: Exploring [5]
Category: Succession (TV 2018)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Developing Relationship, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Family, Family Drama, Family Issues, Hurt/Comfort, Legal Drama, Love, Physical Abuse, Secret Relationship, Sex, Trials
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:40:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 79,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28620465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nomoretears24/pseuds/nomoretears24
Summary: Logan's trial is here.Time for the big reveal?
Relationships: Gerri Kellman/Roman "Romulus" Roy
Series: Exploring [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1991920
Comments: 49
Kudos: 43





	1. Nothing but the truth

She takes a huge deep breath, barely registering anything going on around her.

Adjusting herself in the uncomfortable chair, she crosses her legs over, pressing against the wooden panel before her for balance, careful to avoid the microphone. She fixes the lapels of her suit jacket when she’s settled, looking up to the room finally, watching the numerous people before her chattering amongst themselves.

She looks to her right as she notes the bailiff keeping a close eye on her holding his bible to his chest, clearly waiting for the go ahead. She clears her throat looking back around when she sees the prosecutor and his team of two shifting papers around, whispering to each other; whilst Logan on the opposite desk directly in front of her, stares at her precisely, Ben whispering profusely in his ear as Logan simply nods, his face stoic.

She shakes her hair behind her, pushing it back behind her ear, refusing to look even slightly worried as she shifts her gaze to Miriam, Joseph, and George: the remainder of his legal team that she had only heard of. She had only worked closely with Benjamin Ross, had hand picked him to be Logan’s legal counsel as a previous colleague that she trusted to do exactly what he was told; too afraid to do anything of value, trusting her every word. Not to mention the advantage that he was one of the few people Logan could tolerate; his father being a valued friend of Logans.

She finally moves her gaze over to the jury, noting how most of them were averting any eye contact, looking to the ceiling or the side when she had tried to offer a small smile. She wonders how many of them already knew exactly who she was; how many of them he may have attempted to already pay off behind her back.

The jury had been a contentious subject at the preliminaries of the trial as she had instructed Ben to contest their presence considering the influence they already could have had from the media; Logan Roy a regular in the news for the past 6 months since Ken’s press conference so instead proposing for the trial conducted by a solitary judge. She had known they would never grant it due to one of the charges involving criminally negligent manslaughter, however, she knew it would be viewed as a strategic move at the starting point that Logan would appreciate.

She had delicately explained to Logan that they had stringently explored anything that could lead a mistrial but how everything had been squeaky clean, much to her concealed mirth. Not a single clerical error. All evidence cleanly obtained. Leading their strategy towards contending the witnesses and evidence only – her plan all along.

It had been a rigorous week and a half, every day a new witness for the prosecution throwing Logan under the bus, every night Logan shouting down the phone at her complaining about the incompetence of his legal counsel. She had to soothe that this was the process and how they had cast enough reasonable doubt for each one; promising that the defence had yet to call their witnesses and this would be the turning point in their argument.

Logan was stuck in his apartment, under house arrest, passport confiscated, and she had never been more thankful that it was too risky for her to go up there with the persistent anger and impatience she had been met with every night.

Karl had been the first witness for the prosecution; had made his own plea bargain for a reduced sentence, citing how he was just as much a victim as he had acted under duress with the promise of providing vital information on Logan, just as she and Frank had advised him to do.

She had provided him with more of Baird’s secret documents pertaining to an ancient complaint made against Logan for sexual harassment before Gerri had even came on the scene; the girl, Janet Leyman, being fired with immediate effect when she had begun to make threats. The courts had jumped on it, quickly finding the woman, racking up the charges.

Karl had successfully catalogued every dirty detail of Logan’s involvement in the cruises scandal: had confirmed that the documents present were authentic, had confirmed that he had been present alongside Baird, Weissel, and Ken when Logan had signed off the payments, had confirmed that Logan was aware of the behaviour of Lester McLintoch before the death of the girl on the cruise ship and had done nothing to rectify it.

He had corroborated that he had been there when Janet Leyman had made complaints to Baird about the sexual harassment confirming everything had in fact taken place.

However, Janet Leyman hadn’t been very successful herself in fully conveying her evidence on the stand that the sexual harassment even took place. She had told no one but Baird and Karl. She had no witnesses of the harassment itself taking place. She had no substantial evidence at all. Considering it had been so many years, it had seemed that little was going to come of it, though Gerri didn’t doubt in any way that the allegation was true. She had given a detailed account of Logan as a terrorising presence in the office even then though; for that she had been useful. 

However, most importantly Karl had displayed that no one involved had wanted to carry out these acts of paying off the girls on the cruise ships and using the NDAs. He had painted Logan as a bully, an oppressive monster; exactly what Gerri needed him to do so that all blame would fall to him. He had given evidence of the numerous occasions on which this took place. The countless times that numerous employees, including himself and Frank, had been fired on a whim, his terrifying experience of boar on the floor, the countless instances of Logans abusive behaviour.

Everything had been racking up and coming to plan.

She had not attended the trial. Roman only had shown face a few times using the excuse that there was too much going on at work. However, they had watched it on television, and she could feel the vibe from the courtroom, from the jurors when he had described the boar on the floor situation. They were horrified. The picture of this abusive man was being painted and it was exactly what she wanted. Ben had been weak in his attempt to discredit Karl; merely concentrating on casting doubt on the authenticity of the documents, on this potentially fabricated story of Logan as a tyrannical dictator to try and obtain a reduced sentence, however, it was unconvincing to say the least.

Weissel had corroborated everything with the signing and authenticity of the documents, further conveying his experiences of Logan as an intimidating presence in the office. At least he had finally been good for something.

Ben had attempted to cast doubt on the intentions of Weissel – the emphasis on a pay out, the concentration on why he now all of a sudden was bringing all this to the forefront when twenty years had passed. Again, Baird had come up in his testimony; again, being portrayed as a heartless corporate lawyer willing to do anything to get the company and Logan out of whatever snag they were in.

And it had started to backfire on her.

Her daughters had been constantly calling from Chicago and Boston to demand an explanation, to unearth whether their father was the crook he was being depicted as. She had had to soothe them, though it had only become worse as the trial continued.

Ken had been next to give evidence, a big day in the media as everyone was waiting for the inevitable showdown that was expected to happen as the first time Logan and his second born backstabbing son had been in the same room together since the big press conference. It had been the only day Roman had gone into the courtroom apart from the first day; too afraid of what would happen, too eager to ensure he could somehow soothe something if it did.

It had been a bloodbath.

Ken had shamelessly confirmed everything that both Karl and Weissel had rendered of the great Logan Roy. He had confirmed the signing and authentication of the documents, of his father’s knowledge of Lester McLintoch’s behaviour, including his consistent use of his nickname ‘Mo’. Not only had he confirmed that but he had further substantiated that Logan’s behaviour was not only intimidating and conniving in situations such as boar on the floor, but had illustrated how his father had a very short temper which would often lead to aggressive physical outbursts and verbal abuse to whoever was on the receiving end.

Logan had been completely silent throughout the whole testimony, only a few smirks towards his son. Ben had attempted to cast reasonable doubt, painting Ken as a bitter son who had taken it sore when Logan hadn’t stepped down as CEO, and again when his attempt at a vote of no confidence had failed against Logan. However, it was weak, and they all knew that, especially Logan who had abusively shouted at her down the phone that evening.

Greg had been up next. Confirming the behaviour in Austria as a participant of boar on the floor and into his coercion to destroy the documents, confirming their authenticity, bumbling through an explanation of why they were scrunched up. Tom utterly betrayed in the gallery, Shiv worried that her husband had just been implicated. However, Ben had stupidly allowed Greg the opportunity to rave about Logan, explaining that whilst he could be aggressive towards others, he had been a lamb towards Greg, giving him a job when he was down and out, always giving him the time of day. A little too nice for Gerri’s liking.

Whilst the prosecutor had then brought in expert witnesses to authenticate Logan’s signature, the biggest piece of evidence to fit it all together had inadvertently came from Gerri, well, Baird.

She had connivingly given another ancient document to Karl who had successfully put it directly into the hands of the prosecutor, much to the surprise of Logan. The documents had included the HR disciplinary investigation into Lester McLintoch after Natalia Rossi who had died on the cruise ship had put in a formal complaint against him. It had included the initial complaint from the Rossi to her supervisor, detailing exactly what Lester had been accused of and the mental effects it had had on her. The document in question had included a transcription from the meeting from the investigatory meeting with Lester and the investigating Waystar HR representatives; Baird having appeared as his companion. The document had included a vital piece of evidence as Lester had attempted to excuse his behaviour, claiming consent as his defence, claiming obnoxiously that “Logan had been here a few times on the cruise when I was with the girl. Gimme a fuckin’ break! He knows all about this. Ask him about it and this will all go away!”

It had been a pivotal turning point of the case just as she had expected it would do, fully confirming from Lester himself that Logan was aware of it prior to Rossi’s death. Ben had attempted to cast doubt on the authenticity of the document, casting doubt on whether there ever was a sexual assault of Ms Rossi considering there had never been any confirmed guilt of the allegation.

However, then came the introduction of eyewitness evidence from the HR assistants confirming that this had happened, suggesting that Lester had in fact been implying that Logan had known of the incidents. The supervisor on the cruises had also been brought in confirm the statement made by Ms Rossi, further tying everything up. Some of the girls who had been working on the cruises with Rossi at the time brought in to confirm their witnessing of the behaviour.

The defences argument had started with an unsuccessful call for a dismissal of the trial due to the absence of both Lester and Baird to give any evidence, meaning this information could neither be confirmed nor denied. The move to have the evidence involving Baird and Lester to be fully struck also was unsuccessful, just as Gerri knew it would be.

They had been forced to begin bringing forward their own witnesses. Tom the first up, successfully depicting Logan as a fair and kind employer, before floundering when he was asked about Lester’s nickname and once again suffocating under pressure; still having not learned that he was to attempt to avoid the questions. He had also struggled with avoiding the explanation of the boar on the floor incident, further confirming Logan’s behaviour as intimidating.

Roman had been up next. Had freaked out the night before, unsure whether he could lie under oath, whether he could with a straight face say that his father was an open and accepting employer, not hot tempered, nor abusive when he had literally been beaten physically and mentally by the man for years. It had taken a lot of soothing from Gerri, a reminder that he had to do what he thought was best, but that a turn on Logan now and telling the truth about how his father really was would end in a serious backlash. He would lose his position in Waystar and she wouldn’t be able to do anything to save him. They both had to answer the questions in favour of Logan to stick with the plan. She had to remind him that he didn’t have to lie, simply evade.

He had been successful at doing just that when it came down to it. Thankfully, Roman’s expertise in rambling completely off topic had gone in his stead; his jokes and charm popular with the jurors. Rather than deny it, he had played down boar on the floor, just as he had been advised to do; aware that all the other accounts of the situation from everyone else was likely enough for everyone to know what had really happened there.

He had described Logan’s behaviour as authoritarian, which although not popular was not illegal and in actuality did work. He didn’t have a lot of questions having not been in the business as long, spending most of his years in LA had given him that escape from implication.

Gerri wasn’t keen to go on the stand, not after all the evidence that had been given. It was clear that the game was over. Her input would no longer be an addition to a conviction, she could only see the harm that was likely to come from it. Having to perjure herself, having to tactfully strike the balance of avoiding anything derogatory about Logan whilst also trying to be clear that she was not in support, and then Baird clearly a topic that she wasn’t going to be able to escape facing.

She didn’t want to further the problem about Baird. As the trial had gone on, the media had started consistently fishing around to answer the question of who this Baird Kellman was and his link to Gerri. They had begun questioning his morality and by affiliation had begun questioning her own.

Her daughters had become more unsettled; their pure, wholesome opinion of their father becoming progressively tainted and their mother’s integrity now being challenged. She had decided to tell them the truth after the trial, had invited them up for Easter to discuss everything; hoping that the trial would be over by then including a further opportunity tell them about Roman. However, her fear was that the testimony would present itself as an unwanted opportunity for Baird’s name to be further corrupted for her daughters and her own reputation debauched.

But she had no choice.

So here she was, taking a final look around the courtroom before catching a pair of familiar, worried brown eyes, until the thumping of the gavel brings her back to the moment.

“Will the witness please stand to be sworn in by the bailiff,” she hears the judge declare, as Gerri stands immediately, the bailiff standing directly in front of her now as she looks down at him.

“Please raise your right hand,” the bailiff begins as she follows his instruction. “Do you solemnly swear that you will tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth so help you God?”

“I do,” she states confidently.

“Please state your first and last name,” he continues as she lowers her hand.

“Gerri Kellman. Officially Geraldine Kellman.”

“You may be seated,” he declares before turning back around to sit down.

“Could you please spell your first _unofficial_ name,” the court reporter chimes in, as Gerri takes a seat, crossing her leg over.

“G-E-R-R-I,” she affirms, as the reporter types vigorously, giving the judge a nod after.

“Defence counsel, your witness,” the judge allows as Ben stands, buttoning his jacket, clearing his throat, and walking towards her as she offers an impassive expression.

_All she had to do was briefly answer the questions and evade anything precarious. She had prepped Ben for this. Yes/No’s only. It was the prosecution she had to worry about. She had done this a hundred times; today should feel no different._

“Ms Kellman, would you please state how long you have worked at Waystar Royco?” He begins looking towards her.

“Thirty-five years in May.”

“And your current position there?”

“I am currently the interim CEO.”

“And your positions before that?”

“I was first a corporate solicitor for six years. Then became a Senior corporate solicitor, a position I held for eight years. I then became the General Counsel, a position I held for twenty years until July last year.”

“So, your position at the time of the alleged sexual misconduct of Ms Rossi and her subsequent death was…”

“Senior corporate solicitor,” she confirms.

“Did you yourself handle any of the legality allegedly involved within that time period?”

“I did not.”

“Did you liaise with any external bodies regarding this within that time period or the time period thereafter that involved this alleged offence?”

“No, I did not.”

“Were you aware of any of the alleged behaviour which took place with NDAs or payments made to alleged victims within that time period?”

“No, I was not aware of any of that.”

“Were you aware of any of the alleged offences at all the time when you were a senior solicitor nor in the time thereafter when you took over as General Counsel?”

“No, I was not.”

“When did you first find out about the alleged sexual misconduct and suspicious circumstances?”

“I didn’t find out about any of the offences alleged of Lester McLintoch nor any suspicious circumstances regarding Ms. Rossi’s death until March of last year when it was released into the media.”

“Were you aware of the death of Ms. Rossi on the Bright Star cruise liner on 28th June 1995 at the time?”

“I was aware of the tragic death, yes.”

“What was your understanding of this incident?”

“It was my understanding that Ms Rossi had taken her own life by jumping or falling overboard. An external investigation was conducted into the circumstances related to the death of Ms. Rossi, finding that there had been a history of mental health issues including suicidal ideation backdating to her childhood and that there had been drugs found within her system concluding that her death was either a tragic suicide or a tragic drug induced accident,” Gerri explains calmly.

“Is this that report Ms. Kellman?” Ben asks, walking towards her holding a thick document as Gerri adjusts her glasses in preparation. “Your honour, I am referring to exhibit twenty-one,” he affirms as the judge nods agreeably, skipping through pages on her bench.

Gerri takes the document from him, skimming the first page and then skipping to its conclusion at the end.

“Yes. That is the report.”

“Thank you, Ms Kellman,” he smiles taking the document back off her, as she leans back in her seat.

“Ms Kellman, assuming you had no prior knowledge of the alleged instances, can you confirm then that you did not have any communication with Logan Roy about these instances before March 2019?”

“Objection!” The prosecutor shouts. “Leading the witness.”

“No, your honour, I’m merely deducing from Ms Kellman’s admission of her lack of knowledge of the alleged situation at any point that it would be impossible for her to therefore hear this from Mr Roy himself.”

“Overruled,” the judge decides, as she waves Ben on. “Answer the question please, Ms Kellman.”

“No, I did not have any communication with Logan Roy regarding these alleged offences during or after this time period.”

“Did Logan Roy ever after the time that it was brought to your knowledge, admit to the any wrongdoing regarding pay-offs or suspicious behaviour?”

“No, he did not.”

“Can it also be deduced then that you did not have any communication with your husband, Baird Kellman, the General Counsel at the time of the alleged offences either?”

“No,” Gerri staunchly affirms. “I did not have any communication with my late husband regarding these offences before or after the time period of the alleged offences.”

“So, it can be further deduced that when you took over your husband’s position of General Counsel upon his retirement, he did not give you any kind of briefing on this alleged incident?”

“No, he did not.”

“To confirm, in reference to Mr McLintoch, were you aware of any of his alleged untoward behaviour regarding cruises?”

“No, I was not. I was astounded to discover it.”

“Were you aware of any untoward behaviour outside of the cruises?”

“No, I was not.”

“Were you aware of the nickname given to Mr McLintoch of _Mo_ , suggesting he was in fact a molester?”

“No, I was not aware of this and find it to be in poor taste.”

“So, you did not engage in using this nickname?”

“No, I did not.”

“How would you describe Logan Roy as an employer?”

“Logan as an employer was a firm but fair employer who had a low tolerance for tardiness and incompetence. He often had an autocratic approach to situations due to his expert knowledge and experience within the field leading this organisation to become the success it is. The ability to make fast and intelligent decisions is part of what the role of CEO and Chair sometimes demands. However, as per my job description as his legal counsel, I was often asked for advice on a number of situations, providing expert knowledge in the field of corporate legislation, so I didn’t have a complete autocratic experience,” she carefully dictates as Logan looks to her with narrow eyes, his chin resting in his palm watching her.

“Did you ever experience Logan as a bullying or intimidating character within your workplace?”

“Logan can often have a very forward and brash way of getting to the point in which he wants to get to. The corporate world can be very stressful and demanding with little time for tiptoeing around getting to the point you want to make and can have an effect on the delivery of certain instructions or points without meaning to be harsh. I believe that labelling Logan as bullying or intimidating would be a bit hasty in my opinion, but different people have different thresholds of what they can handle and perceive. I personally never felt bullied by Logan,” she tries to carefully dance around. She wasn’t lying; she had never felt bullied by him after all, but she had felt intimidated.

“Were you present during the situation of boar on the floor in Austria of January last year?”

“Yes, I was.”

“Did you find it to be bullying?”

“I have been present for many corporate retreats and have witnessed much male frivolity over the years when they are horsing around that I have never pretended to understand. However, the situation whilst it was out of the ordinary could have been perceived as the usual fooling around that was often typical of the men in this industry. It should also be noted that Logan was recovering from a heart attack at the time. There was a lot of pressure on him and us all due to the threat of a potential takeover of the company and bad moves of certain players within the company added into the mix, which I could understand may lead to a bad temper that we have all been guilty of at time to time. Logan himself had said the next morning that he felt that his pills had played a part in his change in behaviour.”

“Thank you, Ms Kellman. Lastly, were you aware of any instance of sexual misconduct by Logan Roy?”

“No, I am not.”

“Were you aware of any allegation against Logan Roy accusing him sexual misconduct against a Ms Janet Leyman in December 1979?”

“I had never heard of her, nor had I heard of any allegation, but I was not in Waystar Royco at that time.”

“No further questions,” Ben smiles as he turns away back to Logan who has a small smirk on his lips, hopefully satisfied with her testimony.

“Prosecution,” the judge declares. “You may cross-examine.”

“Thank you, your honour,” the prosecutor nods before standing up and moving towards Gerri.

She had been watching him on TV, a guy at around forty-five, bit of an asshole, clearly had something to prove, a smirk on his lips, and she didn’t like the look of the hard time it seemed he was about to give her.

“Ms Kellman,” he smirks, walking around the room. “You said you had no knowledge of the alleged offence and behaviour conducted by Mr McLintoch, is that correct?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“It has been previously reported that an outside law firm by the name of Solomon, Hare, & Partners had been the external law firm who had in fact handled this situation offering legal services to Mr Roy and Waystar, creating NDAs and negotiating pay outs to the victims who had flooded after the death of Ms Rossi,” he pauses as she simply holds his gaze, waiting for him to get to the point. “As a member of the legal team of Waystar Royco for thirty-four years, was it common practice for the company to use an outside legal office when it had a legal team of how many?”

“Fifty,” she answers flatly, looking at his smarmy expression.

“Fifty,” he repeats with a shocked sigh shaking his head. “That’s a lot of lawyers, so why would you need to hire an external law firm?”

“Well, to answer your initial question, it can be common practice to hire an outside law firm in a manner of different situations. For example, an external investigation so that a fair and unbiased analysis of a situation can find more accurate, ethical, and impartially conclusive information. I recently just had an external law firm conduct an external investigation into sexual harassment policies and experiences within every division of Waystar Royco. This removes the opportunity for anyone who may wish to potentially corrupt or hide any evidence that may come from an investigation,” she explains fluently.

“Is it often that there is corruption within these situations where people would attempt to pollute investigations to hide infractions?”

“Not to my knowledge, Mr Walters,” she fires back quickly. “However, it removes any opportunity for that to take place and it makes the conclusive results more ethically sound and accepted,” she explains resolutely. “However, to answer your question, there are also other situations where an external law firm may be used in my experience. And contrary to popular belief, whilst fifty lawyers may seem extravagant to you, when you run a worldwide corporation expanding four continents, fifty countries, four divisions, over half a million employees, and never ending legal issues, we sometimes can get a teensy bit busy and need external help. I believe it is common for most corporations to outsource corporate law firms who are experts in their field to occasionally pick up work,” she fires back sassily, Roman’s smirk evident in the gallery, earning only a wry smirk from the prosecutor and a little one from the judge if she isn’t mistaken.

“You stated that you did not liaise with any external law firms regarding the alleged incident with Mr McLintoch in that time period, correct?”

“Yes,” she states firmly, narrowing her eyes, as he picks up a document off his desk and stomps towards her.

“Your honour, I am referring the witness back to exhibit twenty-one earlier presented to her,” he confirms as he sits the document back down on the ledge in front of her.

“Can you please state the name of the law firm at the top of the page, Ms Kellman?”

She looks down at it, noting the name.

“Solomon, Hare, & Partners,” she states firmly.

“The law firm which had been involved with the NDAs and pay outs to the alleged victims in the alleged offences of Mr McLintoch, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Well, it seems that you did have contact with them in regard to this instance, considering you identified yourself as having seen this document at the time in question,” he smirks, taking the document back off her and strolling to put it back onto his desk.

“I did not have contact with them personally in relation to this incident. I believe they were in contact with my husband, who had sent out this document to every lawyer within the team when it came through,” she states calmly.

“Have you had any contact with this company since?”

“Yes, they are often used by Waystar Royco when the workload gets heavy, amongst other law firms,” she confirms.

“So, you are familiar with this law firm?”

“Yes, I am.”

“And you still say you had no knowledge of this situation even though you often engaged in work with them?”

“All lawyers including myself as you know have an ethical duty to keep information private and confidential. I only engage in the information that is in regard to the work I am appointed, as should all lawyers. My husband as the General Counsel would not have shared his communication on this instance prior to divulging the report with anyone else as it fell within privacy and confidentiality in accordance to the bars code of ethics which we all agree to. Information is not merely shared because it may be deemed juicy,” she retorts brassily as she hears a small burst of laughter coming from the gallery, catching Roman smirking down at his lap when she follows the sound.

“You said that your husband never passed on any of this information to you as his wife nor as the new General Counsel when he retired, even though there have now been countless testimonies of his presence and involvement in this alleged situation.”

“No, he did not in either capacity.”

“So, your husband never came home and told the inner workings of his day to his wife?” He challenges sceptically.

“No. We kept our personal and professional life separate. He treated me as an employee in the workplace and as a wife at home. We didn’t mingle the two so as to enjoy a tranquil Waystar free home with our daughters. Within work he was always a professional, bound by confidentiality just like he would be with any other employee of Waystar.”

“Do you believe your husband capable of doing this?” He further challenges again.

“Objection!” Ben stands up shouting. “Relevance? Baird Kellman is not the one on trial here.”

“Sustained,” the judge declares, as the prosecutor laughs.

“You also said that you had no knowledge of any prior sexual harassment against Logan Roy himself?”

“Yes.”

“Your husband was General Counsel at that time of the alleged offence against Janet Leyman. Did he ever divulge any information on this at that time?”

“Objection!” The prosecutor declares again. “Hearsay.”

“Sustained,” the judge declares with a sigh, as Gerri becomes exasperated wondering what this bum was trying to achieve here.

“Finally, you stated that the incident of boar on the floor was common for the _men in this industry_. Can you expand on that?”

“There is often a lot of bantering, playfulness, and jibing between the men in this industry. Much like a brotherhood or boys club.”

“And you’re suggesting that as a woman you were never apart of this?”

“Not often, no.”

“Is this why you had no knowledge of Mr McLintoch’s given nickname?”

“Perhaps. You would need to ask them.”

“And the bantering, the playfulness. Did you every witness it going too far? Perhaps bordering on bullying or intimidation?”

“I’ll reiterate. That is very much an individual threshold of what you deem to be too far or boyish bantering.”

“Can you expand upon that?”

“For example, I don’t like toilet humour. I find it offensive. But then that is a very common form of humour, loved by millions I’m sure. However, I find it to be in bad taste. Similar to the bantering which may go on in a boy’s club. Those who engage in it may or may not find it offensive, may or may not all have different thresholds to one another. However, I can’t determine each person’s limitations and thresholds of what may move from bantering to no longer funny and more into bullying. It is a fine line, rife in all workplaces at the moment,” she challenges back, an confronting eyebrow raised.

“Certainly, Ms Kellman. No further questions,” he smirks as he turns around to sit back at his desk.

“You may step down,” the bailiff declares as she stands up confidently, her head held high turning around with a sigh as she steps off the stand.

*****

She’s in her apartment, a martini in her hand, her hand in Roman’s hair, his head settled in her lap, her feet perched on the coffee table as she scrutinises the footage of the trial on TV, her own words from earlier haunting her.

“You okay?” He asks gently, turning to lie on his back, his eyebrows furrowed, his hand trailing up to stroke through the silk of her blouse at her bicep.

“Mhm,” she hums, her eyes still straining on the television, focusing on the expressions of the jurors, of Logan, of herself.

She’s trying to be objective, trying to figure out how she would perceive herself if she were a juror.

Stone cold killer bitch? Business woman? Mother of two girls? Wife of a scoundrel?

She can’t read it.

“I’m telling you; you have nothing to worry about,” he soothes, moving his head to kiss her stomach as she finally looks down at him with a soft smile, resuming her caressing of his scalp.

“I don’t know. Maybe I was too short; too mouthy.”

“Nah, it was hilarious,” he laughs as he watches her drain the remnants of her martini.

She swallows the gulp, sighing, and reaching to the coffee table to place the empty glass down.

“I’m sure you think it was, but I think I came across too bitchy. Never works out for any woman who tries to do that. We just come across as frigid, but he was getting on my nerves,” she huffs.

“You didn’t come across bitchy. You came across like you knew what the fuck you were talking about and like you were trying to get the better of someone who challenged you to a dance off,” he reasons, taking her hand from his head and bringing it around his neck so he could kiss her forearm.

“I’m sure you think that,” she scoffs. “But maybe that’s because you know me and because you think it’s hot.”

“Really hot,” he groans, pecking her forearm again as he grins against it, looking up to her.

She laughs looking back to the television, her brow furrowing again as she watches herself answer the question about boar on the floor.

She thinks she’s avoided perjury, never answering the question properly. Turning everything into perception rather than fact had been a swift tactic. She thinks she’s avoided Logan’s wrath, though she is yet to receive a phone call from him. She doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing that she hadn’t heard a peep.

“Are you genuinely worried?” He asks her, his own eyebrows furrowed in disbelief now.

“I don’t know,” she sighs. “It’s hard to tell objectively how you come across and I still haven’t heard anything from your dad.”

“He’s probably grumbling over a steak and champagne in his forty billion square foot, three story apartment he feels trapped in,” he jokes, rolling his eyes.

“I don’t know,” she bites her lip.

“What else is bothering you?” He challenges exasperated.

“Nothing,” she answers quietly, her other hand resuming its stroking of his hair.

“Geraldine Kellman,” he grumbles with faux seriousness. “You’re telling porkies,” he challenges comically, pointing his finger up at her.

She laughs, looking down at his pearly whites shining back at her.

“Is it the Baird thing? Did Maddie and Charlotte get upset again?” He queries, trying to read her expression.

She sighs again, closing her eyes, her head lolling back onto the back of the sofa.

“No, just a message to say I did well. No tears today.”

“But it is about Baird?”

“The prosecutor just asked a lot of questions. It was like he was trying to push me into showing that Baird was a bad guy, like it had any relevance. I don’t understand why he would pursue that?”

“I think he was just trying to create a general picture of Waystars fuckery for the jury, babe. I don’t think it was personal.”

“It just seems… I don’t know,” she shakes her head as he rolls over, placing a kiss on her thigh before sitting up next to her, an arm wrapped around her shoulder as he nuzzles her neck.

“You’re being paranoid,” he whispers into her neck, pulling back and encouraging her to rest her head on his shoulder.

She sighs into his neck, hugging into his chest.

“I know. Never goes away apparently,” she sighs.

“It’s the effect that Logan Roy’s intimidation can have on a gal. I would know,” he smiles, kissing the crown of her head. “Makes you second guess yourself. But trust me, even I know you crushed it.”

She smiles again, looking up to him, pecking his lips, his hand threading through her hair as he pecks her back, his hand weaving through hers as she deepens the kiss when her phone rings loudly.

She pulls back with a huff, looking at the phone on the coffee table, Logan’s name appearing on the screen.

She huffs, offering a final peck before pulling away.

“Wish me luck,” she sighs before picking up the phone, standing up from her seat and answering.

****

The rest of the trial had been straightforward. Frank and a few others called to the stand to vouch for Logan. Frank following the same strategy as she and Roman; carefully keeping on Logan’s side, minimising any perjury.

However, the shit had hit the fan on the day of closing statements.

Roman had gone to show face once again, hoping it was the last time he would have to be there apart from the verdict tomorrow.

He was rolling his eyes, bored as fuck listening to Ben drone on when his phone had started to light up.

**_Karolina:_ **

**_I’m so sorry. I didn’t know anything about it._ **

****

**_Gerri:_ **

**_Call me as soon as you can_ **

****

**_Geoff:_ **

**_Bro, have you seen this?_ **

**_https://edition.cnn.com/2020/03/19/CCTV:Roman-Roy..._ **

His stomach sinks as he unlocks the phone, immediately going onto the link as more message alerts appeared on the banner, he aggressively swiping them up; Shiv sitting next to him distracted by her phone also.

When he opened the link, the headline made it all clear.

**_CCTV: ROMAN ROY PHYSICALLY ASSAULTED BY HIS FATHER, LOGAN ROY IN ARGESTES LAST YEAR_ **

He feels sick, scrolls down, seeing a video automatically begin playing without sound.

It’s exactly what he remembers.

All of them in that room, the one they had entered after the conference in Argestes. Watches as he and his siblings begin talking, before his dad, Marcia, and Gerri enter and his dad eventually smacks him across the face. He jumps when he watches his dad make contact with his face even though he knows it’s coming, watches as everyone in the room jumps to his defence.

He scrolls down quickly, skimming the story. A source from within the resort who had given CNN the CCTV. A scathing attack on his dad, relating it back to the behaviour that had been reported in the trial of everyone else around it.

It had been planned. It had to have been.

He looks up from his phone, his heart thumping, his ears ringing as he looks to Shiv; taking in her shocked expression.

He looks around the gallery as he takes in the expressions of sadness, pity of others who had also had the alert on their phones. It was too much, so he abruptly stands up.

“Roman,” Shiv whispers quickly, trying to grasp his wrist to sit down, though he shrugs her off and storms out.

He rushes out of the building, quickly phoning Gerri, striding through the city, his panic attack rising.

“Did you see?! Did you fucking see it?” He hyperventilates into the phone, his eyes wildly looking up at the building, trying to figure out where to go, feeling like an animal trapped in a cage.

“I saw it, Rome. It’s okay,” she tells him gently from the couch in her office, the news muted before her, Karolina’s empathetic petted lip offered to her before she signals for her to get the subtitles up on the news.

“Okay?!” He screams loudly. “It’s not fucking okay! It’s fucking,” he drew a huge breath, “they just fucking,” he takes another deep breath, “fucked me,” he finally breathes out, continuing to gasp, continuing to stride, feeling as though he couldn’t get any air in his lungs.

“Breathe, Rome,” she stands up, walking towards her desk, her palm pressed to her forehead. “I promise it’s okay. Where are you?”

“I don’t know,” he gulps, looking around for any indication. “Ehm… Worth Street. Going towards Lafayette.”

“Okay, just stay there. I’ll come get you.”

“I can’t fucking stay here! They’re all fucking... Looking,” he gasps out, noting how people are probably more worriedly looking at his panicked, shouting form.

“Grab a cab. Come pick me up then. Or go to your apartment. I’ll meet you there.”

“I’m not a fucking victim, Gerri! They don’t need to pity me!” He shouts loudly.

“I know that, honey. I know,” she tries to soothe, coat over her forearm as she wave communicates to Karolina, already leaving the office. “I’m on my way out now. Do you want me to collect you? I can be there in ten minutes,” she explains pressing the elevator button hard three times.

“Uhm,” he pants, looking around. “I can’t stay here. I don’t want to speak to a cab driver. What if he knows, Gerri? Tries to ask me about it?”

“I know. I know. Look I’m going into the elevator I’m going to lose you. Just pick a building. Lean up against it out of the way, keep your head down, text me where you are. I’ll come get you. It’ll be okay.”

“No, no. Just phone me when you’re out the elevator. Stay on the line.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll phone you. It’s okay, honey.”

She finds him up against the federal building, instructs for the partition to go up, to go to his apartment, before he even reaches the car.

He flops in, slams the door open, hyperventilating with his head in his hands as the car starts moving, her hand already stroking up and down his hunched back.

“How the fuck did this happen?” He moans, his heel of his palms buried in his eyes so hard he can see stars against the black.

“I don’t know. Karolina’s working on it. Looks like a leak from the resort,” she tells him gently, her fingers stroking the nape of his neck.

“Well I want them fucking sued,” he hisses, as he pulls back from his hands to look at her. “I fucking mean it. I want those fuckers to pay. I want them closed down.”

“Okay,” she breathes. “I’ll look into it.”

He slams back into the leather seat, lolling his head back to look at the ceiling.

“I’m fucked. No one is ever going to take me seriously again,” he huffs.

“That’s not true. If anything, it makes you more human to the public,” she moves her hand to his forearm.

“Yeah. A human who gets hit by his dad. A fucking pathetic fucking weak loser,” he seethes, spluttering.

“That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?! That’s what I fucking am, Gerri!” He barks angrily. “A weak, worthless, fucked up little fucking puppy whose own dad hits him, and he just fucking takes it. The runt of the litter. The punching bag. You saw the video. I just take it.”

“You’re not weak. You reacted like a human being whose dad just whacked a tooth out of his mouth. You were in pain!” She protests angrily.

“We know that’s not true,” Roman spits, tears filling his eyes. “I didn’t do it because he fucking scares me, Gerri.”

She sighs deeply, as he puts his head back in his hands, her hand trailing through his hair again as her heart breaks for him.

“You reacted like a man,” she grits out determinedly, “who’s been manipulated and controlled by his father his whole life. Like a person who has been physically and mentally abused. Don’t you doubt that. You are _not_ in the wrong here! You are not the weak one. You are the strong one for coping with it and I’m proud of you.”

He remains silent, only half listening to her, trying to focus on his breathing, on her hand caressing his scalp before he looks back up to her.

“I’ve went on the stand and publicly defended him. Fuck what did I even stay on the stand? Did I say he wasn’t a bully? Did I perjure myself?”

“No, no,” she tries to soothe. “I don’t think so. You danced around it.”

He sighs, his knee bouncing, his fists relaxing and contracting.

“What am I gonna do, Gerri?” He asks desperately.

“We’re gonna figure it out, Rome,” she moves closer to him, trying to pull him closer to her, his head ending up resting on her shoulder, wrapped up in her embrace as she comforts him in silence until they get to his apartment.

****

They decide for him to lay low, to avoid leaving his apartment, trying to figure out the best move.

He ends up on the phone with his dad that night; Logan shrugging the whole thing off, saying it will blow over, how they both know his hand slipped, how the legal team will attain an injunction so no one can share it. They agree not to give it credence, that Roman should avoid coming to court for the verdict tomorrow.

He spends the night wrapped up in Gerri, his body exhausted from the mix of emotions. How fucking pathetic he feels, his dad on the phone continuing the lies they have all told his whole life, how he’s doesn’t know how he’s going to face reality and other people’s stares after this. Gerri is there to pick up the pieces. To whisper the opposite into his ear, to help him understand what it really was, to remind him how special and strong he really is. She never leaves his side; had dropped everything to do this, and it gives him some kind of hope that it’s going to be okay.

Karolina comes over the next morning, hounded by the press outside of his building that thankfully had no idea Gerri was even in there.

They discuss strategy, discuss whether letting it blow over is in fact the best thing to overcome it. Considering whether the truth of what really happened would be the nail in the coffin of Logan’s reputation.

Roman can’t handle it. Shuts the whole thing down. Doesn’t want to entertain the idea of taking his story to the media like some fucking Me Too victim. He isn’t ready for the attention, for the pity, for the questioning, for the emotional fuckery that is involved with it. He wants to be anonymous, needs time to process it all. He never thought anyone would find out about this.

They change strategy, decide not to comment, decide to let it blow over. Order food and chat about pointless things to help cheer him up.

They even get a smarmy comment out of him, a small laugh before the jury reach a decision after only four hours.

They all sit in front of the television; Roman on the edge of his couch, his hand woven through Gerri’s as he holds his breath. 

**_Criminally Negligent Homicide – GUILTY_ **

**_Corporate Negligence in regard to the sexual assault of Ms Rossi – GUILTY_ **

**_Sexual Misconduct of Ms Leyman – NOT GUILTY_ **

He feels like he can breathe again.

It had worked.

His hand tightens in hers as he feels the relief wash over him, feels her body sink in alleviation next to him also.

No one speaks, they merely look at each other as the television buzzes; tears in his eyes, tears in hers.

He lifts her hand to his lips and seals their future with a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is likely mince because it's needed for context.  
> Bare with my annoying mind.  
> It's been ruminating for too long and it had to get papped out my head.


	2. Secrets & Lies

It hadn’t been over as easily as that. Of course, it hadn’t.

Everything had come all at once within the next month.

Logan had been able to return home; a negotiation made at the beginning of his trial that he would remain under house arrest until he had to give himself up on an agreed date in the event he was found guilty.

A move she wishes now she had never have suggested.

Her focus had been on Roman. On trying to soothe his worries in regard to the leak, on assuring him that the attention on him regarding his silence on the matter would go away eventually.

They had instead put out a statement on behalf of Logan denying the allegations of what the CCTV had clearly depicted. He had become even more unpopular if that was possible; the media speculating on whether he was an abusive father as well as an abusive employer. Logan had initially been insistent on Roman releasing a back-up statement as the media and public had grown more aggressive. Gerri however had successfully talked Logan around with the help of Karolina, asserting that deniability of a potential victim sometimes made the person look more guilty; a complete load of bullshit. In actuality she just wanted to give Roman the opportunity to tell people his truth if he wanted to when he finally had a chance to process it.

Roman had been better a little better; his initial panic about it eased with her comfort, though his clear rumination had continued.

She had noticed a huge difference in him over the past six months; had seen his progression in being more confident, more focussed, less doubtful of his abilities. However, the introduction of the CCTV had provided an element of resurfacing doubt and anxiety that she hadn’t encountered from him in a while.

He had gone into the office a few days after the incident. No one bringing up the CCTV. No one but Frank and Cyd bringing up his father’s guilty verdict. However, at night he had still been more vulnerable, more needy.

She could tell he had started to become more sceptical of those around him again, of their opinions of him, of their perception of his competence and skills; though he had yet to voice it.

He sought her security, her kind words, her promise that people around him weren’t perceiving him as anything other than what he was before. She had done everything in her ability to try and abate it, not wanting his progress to be stifled by something completely out of his control.

Roman and Gerri had started putting their own secret plans into action as Gerri, Logan and his legal team had sought an appeal on the grounds of lack of sufficient evidence to support the guilty verdict.

Karolina had been up at Roman’s apartment with Gerri and Frank three nights in a row trying to organise how they were going to handle the approach of Waystar to Logan once he was sentenced. They had then moved onto how they were going to approach their public announcement of their relationship. Something both of them couldn’t believe was finally happening.

All of the plans were set in stone: once they had heard back about the appeal which she was sure would be rejected, once the sentencing hearing was completed, they would meet with the board and execute the notification clause together. There would be an investigation into it, of course, but it wouldn’t take long. They had been nothing but professional.

In the meantime, however, they had been structuring what their story would be; settling on their relationship developing through working closer together, their closeness increasing in Hawaii, his accident catalysing their admission to themselves, and his subsequent recovery and pressure from the trial initiating the inception of an official relationship.

****

Just as she had suspected, Logan’s appeal had been rejected, the grounds too weak, the evidence that he was aware of Rossi’s mental health and the assault against her before the incident took place too overwhelming. Instead, further charges were pressed against him; corporate negligence in regard to every girl on the cruises who had also been sexually assaulted by Mo and subsequently paid off.

Logan had wanted Gerri to begin legal counsel for his defence on every charge immediately.

Gerri had called an emergency meeting at her apartment that evening with Roman, Karolina, and Frank; the need for some counsel herself on how she was going to tackle this. They had agreed that Waystar was going to cut all ties with Logan Roy and publicly denounce him upon his entry into jail, meaning she was also going to have to cut ties as his legal counsel as well.

It was a frightening prospect. She was unsure how Logan may retaliate, how many people loyal to Logan in Waystar she may lose as a consequence, if the law would take whatever claims he made seriously, if the media would be scathing.

She considered a meeting with Nan Pierce. A conversation to call a truce, to explain her new less autocratic approach to Waystar, to try and keep her name out of the PGM media or at least for their depiction of her to be less ruthless. She considers giving them the exclusive of the breaking of her and Roman’s relationship as a peace offering. Something she would need to ruminate on longer.

They had also discussed dismissing Solomon, Hare, & Partners as an external firm. They had considered whether to publicly denounce them as an unethical firm, however, they agreed that the backlash attached to that could be fatal. Their whole law firm easily able to provide copious amounts of evidence against her and an array of people in Waystar of all of the illegal activity over the years. They agreed to hold a meeting with the partners, come up with an agreement with mutual benefits for both parties to not throw one another under the bus since Logan Roy was now finished.

****

Gerri had helped coordinate the sentencing hearing too; agreeing that it was best to cut all ties to Logan only when he was finally in prison. She reasoned he could do less damage to her and them all in prison; his position weaker to all of his contacts who were looking for a new ally who actually had power.

However, the sentence hearing had been the final blow to Logan Roy.

Ten years.

Unlikely to get out of that alive with his growing bad health; the other charges he was facing likely going to double, potentially triple his incarceration. They had negotiated with the judge to give Logan one last Easter with his family since it could potentially be his last, having to give himself up by 12pm on Easter Monday.

Two weeks.

That’s all they had to wait until Logan was forever caged.

It had been an odd night after Logan was sentenced. Roman particularly turmoiled; his father’s demise finally becoming a reality.

He had had to go to visit his dad that evening; Shiv doing nothing but crying on the sofa, Tom a silent, nervous presence, patting Shiv’s back. Connor babbling a lot of bullshit about how he would pardon Logan when he became President; Roman for the first time ready to hook his eldest brother just to get him to shut the fuck up. Marcia still didn’t make an appearance much to Roman’s surprise; having gone back to France to be near her son.

Logan had been quiet. Had barely spoken a word, simply staring off into space, not listening to any conversation, almost in a trance.

That had worried Roman more than anything.

Whilst he had hated his father’s booming, roaring presence; when his father was silent, it was much more frightening. Expressive anger he was used to with his pop; silence he was not. It made Logan unpredictable and that to Roman was alarming.

Roman had tried to figure out what the reasoning behind the silence really was.

Anger? Scheming? Fear?

He couldn’t imagine his father afraid. Even the thought was nerve-wracking; bringing a guilty feeling to the pit of his stomach.

He had gone to Gerri’s after, a silent presence himself. Gerri noticing it immediately as he had fiddled with the piping on the pillow on her couch instead of paying attention to anything she had said, anything the tv had depicted, any of her flirtation, or caresses which he would usually jump on. He had simply remained silent, his thoughts brooding.

It had taken calculating moves on her part to finally get it out of him; curled up in bed, wrapped around him, her gentle soothing had finally pried it out of him.

His worries. His fear. His guilt.

His feeling of breaking his father’s number one rule.

Taking sides against the family.

But it had been even worse than what Ken had done. Ken had done so publicly, taking the punishment that had been handed to him: banishment.

Roman had been underhanded, still having to live under a black veil whenever he seen his father; a complete fucking Judas.

It wasn’t Roman. He had never been able to do that. He preferred honesty, being up front, laying everything on the table. That’s why he hadn’t been able to pull the trigger on his dad during the vote of no confidence. Whilst he could scheme and dream of being the one to fuck over his own father for his own gain, he had never been able to press the big red button. Loyalty had been ingrained into him since he was a child, despite the countless reasons given to him through his whole life to effortlessly forsake him.

But this time he had done it. He had given the green light, had helped ignite the fire himself. It wasn’t mere knowledge of the act; it was full participation.

He felt like he needed to be punished, that he needed to pay for what he had done.

Had even asked Gerri to verbally abuse him that night, to give him the relief he needed. She had refused; simply continuing her caresses, continuing her rebuttal to his thought processes as his head nuzzled in her neck, his tears stained her silk pyjamas. She had instead encouraged him to call his therapist as a healthier option; had even offered to go with him.

It was a different way of dealing with things; lying in bed being soothed rather than crucifying himself. It was a new pattern that he had never experimented; Gerri having given him no choice. He’s shocked to find out that it works a little. His contemptuous thoughts for himself in that moment becoming lesser the more she had countered them. The more she had validated his feelings of guilt, explaining the pathway of abuse and gaslighting he had been subject to his whole life from his father: the reason for his thought processes.

His hostility for himself wasn’t absent. Far from it. But he could feel it abating. It hadn’t been as present as it was six months ago; had only recently flared he was proud to admit for a few seconds.

His usual need for abuse, insults, harm had been a thing of the past; only reappearing now fleetingly. Something his therapist had shed light on when he had called him the next morning. A bad habit. A coping mechanism it had been explained to him as.

He had been practising replacing his negative thoughts with positive ones at the instruction of his therapist. He had decided to think of something kind Gerri had told him whenever the disruptive ones had appeared ridiculing him. Had even started to write down things in his notes on his phone like a little bitch that she had said to him that made him feel happy and contented so he could reference them. He had started trying to do things to make himself feel better when he had felt like he needed to be destructive; when he felt like he needed to be insulted, abused, or just kick the living shit out of himself. He had replaced it with a comforting feeling; calling her, kissing her, playing his PS5, getting ahead in work, planning and looking up shit for the rooms in their under-renovation townhouse in London, planning something for their trip to Vienna in four weeks. It was healthier. He was noticing its effects. She was too.

Gerri had been under a huge amount of stress also. She had been notified that the Nomination and Compensation committee had nominated her to become permanent CEO. Whilst she had been excited about it, she had been afraid that it had come before they have notified the board of their relationship. She was afraid it would be deemed underhanded, as a power move.

They had decided to move it up after that, meeting with the board a week before Easter, before the CEO deliberations, before the nominating committees interview with her for the position.

The notification meeting had been awkward to say the least.

Having to sit in a room of middle-aged men you had known for decades and uttering the mortal words, “we love one another” was a cringeworthy experience for her.

They had both unashamedly admitted their relationship, had notified them that the relationship was so in its infancy that they had yet to tell their families, that no one knew about it. They had made clear their plans on making it public and the delicacy necessary in doing that so it wouldn’t backfire on Waystar. They had agreed happily to an investigation but had pleaded for it to take place after Easter so they could have the opportunity to tell their families; a granted request.

The board members had seemed impressed that she had come forward about it before her CEO interview and deliberations and her self-confessed want to be transparent with them, though there was no denying that they weren’t shocked by the admission of the relationship. More than one raised eyebrow in the room, more than one smirk. It didn’t seem that they were against it though; only time would tell. Her CEO interview and deliberations were to go ahead that week anyway and that had to be a good sign.

****

They had been eating dinner in her apartment. Their last night together before her daughters were to arrive tomorrow for Easter.

Well she had been attempting to eat as he had been pushing food around his plate.

“What happens if they say no?” He asks reticently.

She had been thinking of that and she didn’t know the answer.

“If who say no?” She tries to distract, buying herself more time as she picks up her wine glass.

“The board,” he confirms exasperated. “About us.”

She swirls the wine around in her mouth whilst pouting as she swallows the huge gulp.

“We’ll handle it,” she decides upon, placing her glass down delicately.

“We’ll handle it? Is that it?” He huffs, pushing his plate away.

“What do you want me to say Roman?” She sighs frustrated, sitting back on the chair as she fiddles with the napkin on her lap.

“I don’t know! Uhm… that it won’t be the end of us? That we’ll fight it? I don’t fucking know,” he raises his voice, looking at her for a reaction.

“It won’t be the end of us,” she tells him calmly, looking him directly in the eye.

“Jesus Christ,” he mumbles, standing up, picking up his wine glass and the bottle. “You’re just fucking saying that because I told you to,” he seethes as he begins to walk out the dining room towards her living room.

She huffs, picking up the napkin from her lap and sitting it on the table.

These outbursts had become more common in the last few weeks. A likely consequence of all the stress they had been under. One thing after another hitting them as each day came.

She picks up the plates on the table, stacking them up, quietly putting them in the kitchen as she tries to collect herself.

She tries to think of how to approach this, her patience with comforting every day wearing when his behaviour had only slightly improved. She feels guilty thinking that way. She loves him and she wants to help. He had improved but it seemed that with each good day came a bad one. The past few weeks of being a double agent, the relationship revelation planning, the CEO interview prep had been exhausting.

The CEO interview today had gone well but she had hardly any sleep last night, staying up to prep, her work stacking up, her emotional support for him constant, her worry over talking to her daughters tomorrow daunting.

She picks up her glass from the dining room table before making her way into the living room, watching as he lies across the whole couch, staring up at the ceiling, pouting. When he spots her, his eyes turn worried, her small smile arriving as she remembers how vulnerable he is, how temporary this is.

“Are you going to make room for me, or should I sit over here on the armchair?” She challenges with a smirk.

He sits up slowly, as she makes her way to the couch, sitting where his head had just been, crossing her legs, aware of his plan to lie back down on her lap; their usual position.

She props her head back onto the back of couch as her hand finds its way into his hair, her wine glass resting in her hand on his chest as his hand trails up and down her forearm.

They sit in silence for a good few minutes, both too drained to continue.

“It won’t be the end of us, I promise,” she finally breaks the silence, her eyes still closed as her head still lolls on the back of the couch.

“Then what would we do?” He asks quietly.

“I don’t think they’re going to reject it, Rome,” she assures with a sigh.

“Yeah but what if they do,” he pushes again.

“I’ll have to go,” she admits, looking down at him finally as he looks up to her with a frown.

“Have to go where?” He asks anxiously, his eyes widening in fear. 

“I would have to resign. I’m can’t continue like this with the relationship being a secret. I want to live freely. So, I’ll resign.”

“Wait, what?” He queries agitated, sitting up and standing abruptly. “Why the fuck do you need to go? They’re about to make you CEO.”

“Because one of us has to and it’s not going to be you,” she explains calmly watching as he towers above her, her wine glass now perched on her thigh as she huffs.

“Why can’t it be me? You’re more useful than me!”

“Because I’m an old woman and can retire. You’re 39 and haven’t even hit the peak of your career.”

“Stop fucking saying you’re old! And I have more money than you, I could retire better than you could! Live the Connor life!” He starts to pace around her living room throwing his hands in the air as she follows him with her eyes.

“It’s not about the money. It’s about the ambition. It’s about you making something of yourself. I’ve already had my career.”

“No, you’ve not! You’re at your peak! You’ve just made CEO.”

“I’m not CEO.”

“Yet! It’s a matter of days! You have so much to give. So much more to change. I’ve got nothing more to do.”

“You have no idea what you’re capable of. You have absolutely no idea. Everyone does but you don’t. You’re going to take this company into the stratosphere,” she argues resolutely.

“No, I’m not. I don’t want it as much as you do! You want it. It’s all you’ve ever wanted. I just fucked did it because like it was there,” he shrugs, gesturing to the imaginary there in front of him.

“That’s not true. You know you want it. You want to succeed and that’s okay. That’s human nature. You don’t need to be noble for me. And you’re going to Roman. You’re going to triumph.”

“I want you more,” he says simply, ceasing his pacing, staring at her.

“And you can have me and have a career too if I resign,” she tells him softly with a smile.

“No,” he protests. “Not at your detriment. It’s not happening,” he insists, pacing around the room again anxiously.

“This is why I said we’ll handle it. There’s no point in discussing this and getting ourselves worked up when you don’t even know if they’ll say no,” she explains, draining her wine and sitting it on the coffee table.

“We usually psychoanalyse every possible fucking outcome. We prepare for every fucking scenario. Why not this fucking one?” He asks her angrily.

She sighs, her lips inverted as she looks up at him.

“Because it’s not up for discussion.”

“I don’t get a say?” He asks exasperated, laughing a little, his eyebrows hitting his hairline.

“Not this time. You resigning isn’t an option. But again, you’re getting worked up over something that may never happen,” she sighs again.

“But, what if…” he begins before she cuts him off.

“Please, Roman,” she interrupts loudly, raising her voice. “Don’t fight me on this. I’m exhausted. I have a headache. My mind is constantly whirring. It’s been a hard few weeks without any let up. I finally got the CEO interview out of the way. I need to drop a bomb on my kids tomorrow about us and their father. You have to tell Shiv, Ken, and Connor about us tomorrow and your dad on Sunday as well. Can’t we just have a relaxing night?” She pleads, looking up to him.

He hadn’t noticed it before.

Hadn’t noticed her worn form. He notices her eyes properly as she pulls off her glasses, rubbing her eyes before putting them back on. Her eyes are heavy, bags underneath them, her face more puffy than usual, her body sagging on the couch like a sack of potatoes.

“I’m sorry,” he settles, his voice soft. “It’s been a shitty few weeks. You want something for your headache?”

“Please,” she sighs. “There’s some Aleve in my purse,” she directs as he walks directly to the kitchen to get a glass of water, returning swiftly with the pill bottle too.

“Thanks, honey,” she smiles, sitting up and taking the pills.

“What can I do? Tell me what you want to do?” He asks worriedly, sitting next to her, his hand stroking the back of her neck. “You want to sleep? I can run you a bath? Foot massage? What? Tell me and I’ll do it.”

“Oh, a bath sounds good,” she groans, stretching to put the glass on the coffee table.

“Okay. I’ll run your bath. Put all the usual shit in it,” he moves to get up before she pulls him back down, wrapping her arm around his middle, settling on his shoulder. He happily receives her, kissing her crown as he feels her hum against his neck.

“Just sit here for a minute with me,” she whispers, giving a peck to his neck.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so shitty. I’m trying to be better.”

“I know. You’re doing so well. It’s been a hard time, but we’ll get through it.”

“I don’t want you to suffer because of me.”

“I’m not. I promise.”

“How about I get some wine for you as well. You want a book or something to read in there?”

“No,” she whispers. “Come sit with me in the bathroom. Talk to me about stupid shit. Tell me stories.”

“Okay,” he laughs, pulling back to get up, grabbing the bottle of red he brought in on the way. “Bring the glass. How about a foot massage while you’re in there, hm? That sound good?”

“Bring the stool then,” she advises as he moves out of the room.

“Nah, I’ll just kneel on the floor. You want candles too?”

“Whatever you can be bothered doing,” she calls through.

“Candles it is!”

****

Gerri, Maddie, and Charlotte had decided on a good old-fashioned pyjama party on Good Friday. No husbands, no boyfriends; just them spending time together. They had takeout, plenty of wine, and whatever movie the girls had picked on at the moment. Gerri had barely paid attention to the movie, instead waiting for the inevitable questions that were bound to come; ruminating on whether she should bring it up herself.

It had come about naturally. They had been discussing movies; which ones they loved, the ones from their childhood, the classics they had never seen.

“I watched the Godfather recently. Wondered how much it was like Wayster. Dad like the consigliere. And then you, I suppose,” Charlotte directs towards her mom, her wine swirling around. “Is that what it’s like?” She asks reticently as Gerri sighs.

“Uhm… I don’t really remember the Godfather to be honest. It’s been a while,” Gerri retorts, trying to figure out what she’s getting at.

“She wants to know if they did a bunch of illegal shit and if you both covered up for them,” Maddie explains bluntly.

“Oh right…,” Gerri sighs, looking down at her wine, taking in its smell, wondering how she should handle it. “I take it you want the truth?”

“That would be a nice change,” Maddie inserts angrily.

“Maddie, don’t,” Charlotte inserts, ever the peacekeeper.

“No. It’s been years of pussy footing around this. I want to know directly,” Maddie responds curtly, looking to Gerri for an answer; Gerri taking in how much her eldest could be exactly like her.

“Well, let me ask you this,” Gerri starts reticently. “Would it change your opinion of both of us if you found out we did? If you found out we did cover up their illegality for them? If I told you that it was just our job. That we fell into it?”

“No,” Charlotte pipes up first. “It wouldn’t change my opinion.”

“I don’t know,” Maddie answers honestly. “Maybe if there was some kind of explanation. A truthful one. But mom, I think we need to agree to just be brutally truthful here. It’s long overdue.”

“Okey, I can be brutally honest but be prepared that it might not be what you want to hear, and I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t start shouting from the rooftops about it. I’m putting my trust in you both here,” she looks at them expectantly, Charlotte nodding, as they both look to Maddie who is simply confrontationally looking at Gerri.

“I understand you’re angry Maddie,” Gerri challenging back. “It’s been a rough ride for us all, especially both of you. But we never did anything to deliberately harm anyone. We were only human.”

“You’re procrastinating. Did you both illegally cover up?” Maddie counters again.

“What are you wearing a wire?” Charlotte attempts to joke, Gerri offering a small smirk.

“Yes, we did,” Gerri finally confirms, as Maddie shakes her head in disappointment. “I don’t know your dad’s motives, how he fell into it. We never discussed it so I can only speak for myself,” she pauses looking to the both of them as they simply look back to her; Maddie on the armchair next to Charlotte whose sitting on the opposite end of the couch from Gerri. Gerri’s back is up against the arm of the sofa, feeling as though it was actually the firing wall.

“Did I go into law with the intention of covering up dodgy dealings? No, I didn’t. I went into law to succeed. I wanted to be the best of the best. I was intelligent. I had gone further than most people in my town usually would. People told me I couldn’t get far in corporate law as a woman even though I enjoyed it the most. Even though that’s were the most money and progression was. I was very ambitious, and I wanted to succeed where I was told I couldn’t. So, I defied them. I succeeded in law school, got the scholarships. I got into one of the biggest corporations that existed. I met your dad there as you know. I quickly learned what had been going on there. I tried to stay out of it; just did what I was told. I didn’t want to rock the boat. I was too easy a target. If I opened my mouth, I would be out on my ass. Then I got into a relationship with your dad and we got married. He explained how it worked. No matter how much I felt against it, he explained it was like that in every organisation. That if I wanted to work, if I wanted to succeed then this was the life I was signing up for. It seemed like he had it all worked out. He was twelve years older, he was more mature, had more experience in it than I did. I learned from him how to play the game. How to keep my head down, how to play all the sides. Our jobs were to protect the firm. And I know its cliché, but it was different times. Everything was corrupt. It still is. Pay offs here, pay offs there. The state governments, the federal government. Governors, senators, the presidents. It was eat or be eaten. If you didn’t, someone else would. It’s hard to explain being in that world unless you’re in it. It’s like a little bubble. A little world that exists outside of reality where the rules don’t apply. You get sucked in. Then obviously there was Logan. If you didn’t follow his rules, you were out on your ass. He had a way of manipulating everyone. So, on reflection do I wish I hadn’t done it? I don’t know. Morally yes, I suppose. Do I regret the impact it had on you both? Yes, I do. Was I being selfish? Yeah, I probably was and probably still am. But I’m human. I have ambitions and wants and needs like everyone else, and can’t help who I am,” she finishes confidently, taking in their silent, resigned forms.

“I can’t believe you’ve done all that,” Maddie whispers, her knees brought up to her chin as she leans her chin on them, wine glass forgotten.

“What about daddy? He did it too,” Charlotte asks.

“Yeah, but everyone does. It wasn’t him as a person. It’s a ruthless business, honey. I can’t explain it. He was always in it. He didn’t second guess it.”

“Was he as bad as they make out? In the trials?” Charlotte asks again, Gerri noting Maddie’s silence.

“He did the things they said, yeah. But your dad was a good man and he adored both of you. He cared about you both more than anything in the world. Surely you know that? He doted on you both.”

“When he was there,” Maddie jibes.

“He retired early to spend time with both of you and I’m glad he did because then he got ill. If he hadn’t, you all never would have had that time together,” Gerri smiles.

“But why didn’t you? Why didn’t you retire?” Charlotte asks genuinely curious.

“I was only forty, honey,” Gerri explains. “I’d hardly begun my career. Your dad had more time in it than I had,” she tries to soothe gently.

“He was only 52 when he retired,” Maddie argues. “That’s young to retire.”

“Yeah, it is. But that was his choice. He didn’t want it as much as I did. He reached his peak. He was never going to be CEO. Logan was healthy then. We had enough money and we knew that you were both suffering with both of us being away. He wanted to spend time with you both. He was ready to leave,” Gerri explains plainly.

“And you didn’t want to spend time with us?” Charlotte asks hurt.

“No! Not at all. Of course, I did,” Gerri protests, leaning forward to rub her hand against Charlottes foot. “I love you both with all my heart. I just wanted to have it all,” she admits with a sigh. “You need to understand that I was just very ambitious. Perhaps to a fault. I thought providing you with everything you ever needed was enough.”

“Did you even want kids?” Charlotte asks reticently.

“Honestly?” Gerri asks. “No, I didn’t. Your dad did,” she continues as she watches Charlottes head bow, tears come to Maddie’s eyes, tears beginning to fill her own. “But I’ll tell you this. I will never be more thankful to your dad for convincing me into it, because I would never change it. I love you both so much. I would die for you both. If either of you called me up and told me you’d killed someone I would be there to bury the body, take the fall. All I want is for both of you to live happy and fulfilled lives in whatever you want to do. I had never known you could love someone that deeply than when I had you both.”

“I don’t believe you,” Maddie whispers.

“Please Maddie,” Gerri begs, her brow furrowing. “We said we wouldn’t lie to one another tonight. I can promise I never will in the future. That’s why I wanted you both to come here for Easter. So, we could get everything out in the open. But I love you, Maddie, whether you believe it or not. I know it’s affected you both. Perhaps you more Maddie because you were older when your dad retired, you had more years without us both, but never doubt my love for you. I know I wasn’t a conventional mother. I know I may have failed you then but never doubt how much I love you and Charlotte. I don’t know how I can prove that to you.”

“I believe you,” Charlotte pipes up, wiping her tears away as Gerri offers a kind smile, stroking her foot again as she looks back to Maddie.

“I know you think I’m a monster, Maddie. An unfeeling, cold bitch, but I promise you I’m not,” Gerri says leaning to her side, placing her wine glass down as she looks at Maddie. “I was just ambitious.”

“I don’t think you’re cold,” Charlotte refutes. “She’s not cold, Maddie. You know that. When we were kids, she was caring. It’s not like she was some fucking frigid, distant mother.”

“She just wasn’t there,” Maddie says harshly.

“I know I wasn’t. I tried to make up for that when I was back and maybe I didn’t do it well enough. I’m trying to make up for that now. I know it’s difficult with me being in New York, you in Boston, Charlotte in Chicago. It’s not easy. If we were all together maybe it would be different. But I’ve been trying. I promise you that. I know there was the slip up when I became CEO, but I _have_ been trying. I want to know about your lives. I want to be involved in them. I want you to be involved in mine,” she preaches, hoping to convince them.

“But we’re not involved in yours. You’re a closed book,” Maddie fights, swiping her tears away angrily.

“And that’s the other reason I brought you here,” she begins with a sigh, unsure whether this was the time with the emotions running so high already, but she had promised to be honest. “I have something to tell you both and you’re probably not going to like it,” she sighs, wiping her forehead as she watches Maddie’s expression turn confused, Charlottes face turn apprehensive.

Gerri bites her lip, closes her eyes, takes a deep breath.

“I’m in a relationship and it’s serious,” Gerri finally divulges as Maddie gasps, Charlotte’s mouth hanging open. “With Roman Roy.”

“Roman fucking Roy!” Maddie shouts, unwrapping from her closed body, her feet hitting the ground, leaning forward as Charlotte looks around to her older sister.

“But is he not like our age?” Charlotte offers confused, trying to piece it together.

“No, he’s 39 so older than you both,” Gerri confirms.

“Wait. Wait a fucking second. This is ridiculous,” Maddie starts bracing her hands in front of her. “Roman fucking Roy? You’re in a long-term relationship with a man child?”

“Don’t call him that, Maddie,” Gerri sighs. “You don’t know him.”

“This is fucking insane,” Maddie shouts as she throws herself back in the chair cackling.

“How long has it been going on?”

“Truthfully, for just over a year, but officially since last summer,” she divulges.

“Last fucking summer? AND WE’RE JUST FINDING OUT ABOUT THIS NOW? Why didn’t you fucking tell us?”

Gerri was growing impatient with the shouting though she has to admit she had expected it.

“Maybe because I was afraid you would fucking react like this?” She raises her voice back, trying to shock her daughter into remembering that she was still her mother. “The relationship was a secret. Everything was too precarious at the time in work, with me becoming interim CEO, with his family. I didn’t even know if it was going to last. But it has and will long term.”

“What? Like you’re going to marry him?” Charlotte asks surprised, her voice light.

“No! Well...,” Gerri begins flustered. “Not just now anyway. He’s not asked. I don’t want him to just now. We aren’t engaged. That’s what I’m trying to say,” Gerri sighs, her fingers massaging her temples.

“But it’s not out of the question?” Maddie scoffs.

“No, it’s not. It could happen in the future, yes,” Gerri bites, not very happy about being laughed at.

“Do you live together?” Maddie challenges angrily.

“No, it’s been risky. It’s been a secret, so we only stay over every so often. But that will likely be the next step once it goes public.”

“When’s it going public?” Charlotte asks.

“Next week,” Gerri confirms.

“Fuck,” Charlotte whispers.

Gerri is growing more unsettled, not really sure what to say, trying to figure out how to bring them around, how to calm them down.

“How could you be in a relationship with Roman fucking Roy? He’s like the number one asshole in America. He’s a fucking child. Taking drugs. Wild parties. A monumental fuck up.”

“You’re wrong,” Gerri refutes venomously. “He doesn’t do any of that anymore. If you knew anything about him, you would know that he was very lost for a very long time and he has matured drastically. He’s much more than anyone knows. You don’t know him in any way.”

“No, mom we don’t. But it’s not like you’ve even gave us the opportunity to,” Charlotte pipes up.

“Don’t tell me you’re fucking okay with this?” Maddie fires at Charlotte angrily.

“It’s not that fucking bad, Maddie. Calm down,” Charlotte refutes.

“Not that fucking bad?! She’s dating one of the biggest fucking playboys in the world. A child twenty-two years her junior.”

“Dad was twelve years older,” Charlotte argues back as Maddie simply ignores her, both of them ignoring Gerri’s presence completely.

“She’s talking about moving in with him. About marriage. It has to be a ploy. What’s in this for you, mom? What’s in it for fucking HIM?” Maddie looks to Gerri expectantly.

“Madeline, I’ll put up with a lot but you’re tethering on the edge of the line so I would suggest you reel yourself in,” Gerri warns sharply before trying to calm herself down. “I understand you’re shocked, perhaps upset, but I’ll not tolerate insolence. I’m a 61-year-old woman and I know how to make my own decisions,” Gerri informs distinctly. “What’s in it for me? What’s reeling around in your head, Maddie? Money? Stature? Being a pathetic old woman in a crisis? What do you think it is?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you,” Maddie fires back.

“Happiness. That’s what’s in it for me. He makes me happy. He makes me laugh. He reminded me of who I was before I became the General Counsel in Waystar Royco. He reminded me that I had ambitions and interests outside of work. He’s good for me,” she defends resolutely.

“Then what’s in it for him?” Maddie asks fiercely.

“What, like I have nothing to offer? Like I’m a shell of a woman, unable to offer anyone anything?” Gerri responds defensively. “You would need to ask him, Maddie. All I know is that he does want me, and he does love me, and it’s genuine, and I’m sorry you feel the way you feel but it won’t change anything.”

“Were you not happy before then? With daddy?” Charlotte asks quietly.

“I was happy most of the time with your dad but it’s a different kind of relationship,” Gerri tries to explain.

“What do you mean most of the time?” Charlotte queries confused.

“She means the affairs,” Maddie barks, looking directly at Gerri.

Gerri’s heart stops, her stomach drops, a nausea taking over her. She didn’t know Maddie knew.

“You had affairs?” Charlotte directs to Gerri with wide eyes.

“No, you fucking idiot. Dad had affairs,” Maddie confirms. “Didn’t he?”

“Mom?” Charlotte pushes, looking at Gerri expectantly.

Gerri sighs, she hadn’t wanted to go into this. Not tonight. There had already been enough to be getting on with, but she had vowed not to tell a lie.

“Yes.”

“Oh, mom,” Charlotte sighs, a mix of empathy and pity etched across her face.

“I got over it,” Gerri tries to brush off.

“Yeah, right, okay,” Maddie scoffs, rolling her eyes.

“Okay, Maddie,” Gerri snaps impatiently. “Then why don’t you tell me how I felt about it since you apparently know more about it than me.”

“Maddie,” Charlotte warns, shaking her head.

“You had a huge fight with dad, screaming and shouting when you found out about the last one. Lily. You threw things around the office. Said you knew it had been going on eight years. That you knew about the dalliances through the years but not about that. But someone shouting and screaming and throwing things around the room doesn’t quite equate to someone being over it,” Maddie explains.

“Thank you for divulging your depiction of one event you eavesdropped on. Now can I say my peace?” Gerri challenges with a raised eyebrow at her eldest.

“Go ahead, mom,” Charlotte leans forward, rubbing her mom’s hand as Maddie rolls her eyes.

“Yes. He had an affair and dalliances, as you put it, through the years. And yes, I was broken hearted when I found out.”

“When was the first?” Charlotte asks.

“Just before you were born,” Gerri admits, her words choking as they come out, her body sagging a little. “You need to understand in that world, back then, even now, they all did it. Men. All of them did. That they all have their _moments_ and whilst I was upset about it, I understood it for what it was: just a one-night thing every so often, and that our marriage was deeper than that; more of a partnership and that our marriage had evolved beyond the physicality.”

“But it wasn’t a one-night thing with Lily?” Maddie prods again, ever the lawyer, as though Gerri was her witness on the stand she was trying to catch out.

She can’t help but take Maddie’s demeanour in. She can see the thrill that Maddie is getting in Gerri suffering. And it hurt. It hurt like fucking hell that her eldest could be so callous. However, she tries to excuse it. Tries to understand that this is years of pent up anger her daughter has for her; tries to understand and soothe instead of biting as difficult as it was becoming and as unsuccessfully as she had executed it so far.

“No, it wasn’t and that hurt more than anything. For everything your father was, I never expected him to emotionally cheat. I never realised his interest in retiring was not only to be with you both, but to be with her more too. But that was against me. Not both of you. His cheating didn’t affect either of you nor have anything to do with you both. It didn’t mean that he loved you both any less. It doesn’t negate that he was a great father to you both. And it didn’t stop me from loving him. I’ve made my peace with it now,” Gerri explains quietly.

“How could you be okay with it? How could he do that?” Charlotte asks softly, as Maddie scoffs at the remark and Gerri’s head snaps around to her.

“Let me guess,” Gerri challenges her eldest back bitterly. “You think I deserved it. I must have been as horrible a wife as I was a mother. Never there to give him he wanted and needed just like I wasn’t there to give you both everything you needed,” she continues angrily as Maddie has the good grace to look a little sheepish. “Well, let me tell you something. You’re wrong,” she declares resolutely as she swings her legs off the couch to stand up. “Excuse me, I need to go to the bathroom,” she whispers furiously as she makes a quick exit out of the room.

“That wasn’t necessary, Maddie,” Charlotte admonishes her sister, shaking her head.

“Don’t say you aren’t thinking it,” Maddie fires back.

“You need to let this go. She’s trying. She’s a human fucking being. She has flaws and feelings just like you and me. No matter how many hours she spent at the office, she didn’t deserve that from dad. No one deserves that. If he wanted out, he should have left her, not cheated. You’d know that if you got that fucking chip off your shoulder,” Charlotte defends angrily, swinging her legs over to stand up as well.

“Like you weren’t affected by her absence,” Maddie groans, picking up her wine glass and draining it.

“Of course, I was. But I like to think of mom from when we actually seen her then and how she is now. I think of my mom who would come give me a kiss on the forehead and tuck me in no matter how late it was. Who ticked _YES_ on my drawings when I left them out for her for when she got home after I went to bed. Who would write us both little notes when she couldn’t be there in the morning and call us every day no matter what the fucking time zone she was in. Who showed up to your fucking violin concerts or watched them back on camera with you if she couldn’t make it, and praised you for your talents. She tried. The only thing she’s guilty of is being a woman trying to have a career and fulfil her dreams. Don’t hate her for that. I respect her and admire her. She’s not perfect but she’s our mom and I love her. And this thing with Roman Roy. I’m not saying I get it but if she’s happy, let her be fucking happy. Maybe you’ll be a little happier yourself if you stopped betting against her and started rooting for her,” Charlotte shouts before following the trail to the restroom, Maddie left to brood on her younger sister’s words. 

Gerri doesn’t know how it had all gotten so out of hand as she leans on her sink, her back hunched, her heart wrenching at how badly it’s going. She doesn’t know now what she had expected. She knew it wouldn’t be good, but she wasn’t expecting the insults; hadn’t expected how cutting Maddie could be. She hadn’t expected the memories of Baird’s affairs to come up; hadn’t expected the emotional heartache to resurface. She hated being in this position, fighting for both herself and Baird. Having to divulge everything. But she had to try and fix this; it couldn’t be left this way or it would never get better.

“Mom?” She hears Charlotte’s voice through the door. “You okay?”

Gerri sighs, her heart thawing for her youngest’s empathetic nature. Where had they got her?

“Yeah, honey. I’m okey. I’m just coming,” she pushes a stray tear away as she walks to the door, opening it as she sees Charlotte standing there worried.

“Don’t listen to her,” Charlotte assures, moving instantly to wrap her arms around Gerri’s neck. “She’s just got a lot of shit she needs to work out. She doesn’t mean it.”

“She does and it’s okay. I deserve it,” Gerri settles into the embrace, her arms tightening around her daughter’s waist, Charlotte's arms tightening around Gerri’s shoulders.

“You don’t and I’m glad you’re happy,” she reveals, pulling back smiling, kissing her mom’s cheek before taking her hand and leading her back into the living room.

“Right, time for you two to sort this shit out,” Charlotte declares as Gerri takes her seat, whilst Charlotte pulls Maddie up out of the armchair and pushes her onto the couch next to Gerri.

“Maddie. You’re being out of order and you need to apologise to mom,” Charlotte declares as she plonks onto the armchair.

“No, Charlotte. It’s what she feels. She can’t help that and is entitled to feel anything she does,” Gerri opposes, looking at Maddie’s bowed head.

“No, mom. She’s being out of order and she knows it,” Charlotte looks to Maddie, as she pouts quietly, refusing to look at either of them.

“Maddie,” Gerri sighs resigned, turning towards her. “I know you’re angry at me for everything that happened in the past and I know you may never get past that. But I want you to know that no matter what you think or feel, no matter if you never speak to me again, that I love you and my door is always going to be open and I’m never going to stop trying because,” she falters, choking on her words as she becomes teary. “Because you’re mine. You’re my baby. My first baby. The most delicate little thing I’d ever held. And I hated children. Couldn’t imagine ever having one of my own. Then during the pregnancy everything changed. I could feel you fluttering in my tummy and kicking me, and I would just talk to you all day,” she smiles. “Then after one of the most excruciating experiences of my life,” she begins before she’s interrupted.

“Yeah, you lost two pints of blood, we know,” Maddie finally speaks, rolling her eyes, feigning disinterest in her mother’s words though Gerri knows she’s hanging onto every syllable.

“And refused a blood transfusion because of the HIV pandemic might I add,” Gerri reminds her. “Two weeks in hospital to recover and build that up by myself. I was pale as death. Even despite all of that. When I held you. It was game over,” she sighs, clasping her hands, looking at Maddie pleadingly as she saw her eldest wipe her tears away furiously, her head still bowed. “My life was over because I adored you so much. I had never felt anything like it. There was never anything I wouldn’t do for you; risk for you. I would just watch you, afraid to go to sleep in case something happened,” she sighs, sitting back up straight as she chances a glance at Charlotte. “Don’t think I didn’t miss you both when I was gone. That I didn’t feel guilty about it. Because I missed you both all the time,” Gerri continues, watching as Maddie’s harsh stubborn exterior falters, as Gerri stands up and sits directly next to her, hugging her side and kissing her temple. “I just thought I could have it all, but I love you, honey. With everything in me. Always will. No matter how many shitty things you say to me. No matter how loudly you scream. No matter how much you hate me. I want you to be so happy. I want you to have anything you ever wanted. I want to be there front row to see it. I missed too much when you were kids and I don’t want to miss one more thing.”

Maddie finally breaks as Gerri tightens her hold on her, Maddie’s arms throwing around Gerri’s waist as she begins wailing into Gerri’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Gerri hears Maddie mumble as her heart breaks.

“It’s okey, honey. I know. I know. Just let it out,” Gerri soothes as she looks at Charlotte over Maddie’s shoulder mouthing a ‘Thank Fucking Christ’ whilst rolling her eyes that Gerri can’t help smirking it.

“And I know the thing with Roman might be hard to accept at first, but it’s not going away. You need to get used to it,” Gerri reminds her as she strokes her daughter’s hair, Charlotte swinging her legs over the arm of the chair and hanging her head over the other arm.

“I heard he’s fun,” Charlotte swings her legs as her long blonde hair hangs in the air, her body arching to see how far behind her she can see.

“He’s a lot of fun. I think you’ll both really like him,” Gerri smiles, leaning back on the couch with Maddie attached to her. “You okay?” She whispers to Maddie.

“Yeah,” Maddie sits up slowly, wiping her eyes and nose. “Fucking stupid. I’m fucking 31.”

“Even at 31 you still need a hug from your mom,” Gerri smiles. “I’m 61 and I’d like a hug from my mom,” she smiles sadly, completely serious. “Look I’m not asking you to forgive me over night. I’m asking you both to work with me to make this better. And I’m not asking you to be okay with the Roman thing immediately. I’m asking you to give him a chance because I love him and I’m your mother. Just like I’ve given every one of your boyfriends as chance.”

“Which of our boyfriends had she given a chance?” Charlotte finally pulls her head up to ask confused.

Maddie and Gerri look at each other with a smirk, a small laugh escaping Maddie, about divulge it’s the fucking current one, when Gerri’s phone pinging saves her.

She moves across the couch to pick it up, looking down to see the text there.

**_Roman:_ **

**_Hey beautiful, how’s it going there? My ears are burning._ **

She smiles, looking down at it, then up to her fighting daughters as she realises that Maddie has in fact revealed that it’s the current boyfriend.

And she feels it, feels it so deeply.

Complete happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As someone who prefers to write dialogue, this whole trying to round up the damn story in paragraphs is proving difficult.  
> Again bare with me because I'm trying to get the storyline out of the way so I can focus on the dialogue.


	3. The Big Reveal

They’re in Ken’s apartment for their nauseating Easter dinner on Good Friday. It had been Roman’s idea to be fair, an attempt to kill two birds with one stone by including Ken since he wasn’t invited to Logans on Sunday as well as a ploy to break the news about Gerri.

He’s nervous. He doesn’t know what he’s going to be met with. Regardless of whether they accept it or not; he doesn’t give a fuccck. However, he’s afraid of the comments, of the potential berating that could come from literally any of them. Jibing he can take, insults he can’t.

He had messaged Gerri in the car on his way there.

**_Roman: You broke the news yet?_ **

She had responded within a few minutes.

**_Gerri: Not yet. We’re looking at menus for dinner. Is that you on your way there now?_ **

**_Roman: Yeah. Are you nervous?_ **

**_Gerri: A little. Are you?_ **

**_Roman: Shitting a brick but like fuck them, right? Who gives a fuck what they think?_ **

**_Roman: My family I mean. Not yours._ **

**_Gerri: I know what you meant._ **

**_Roman: You really think they’ll be ashamed of me?_ **

**_Gerri: Why would I think that?_**

**_Roman: You said it in Tern Haven?_ **

**_Roman: “What would your family say if they knew you were here? They’d be ashamed of you and rightfully so” *hot Gerri growl*_ ** **_🍆💦_ **

**_Gerri: Roman. You know that wasn’t true. You know that was just playing up to the thing you liked because you were upset. We’ve been through this. How do you even remember that?_ **

**_Roman: How can I forget it? It was a spank bank favourite for like three months._ **

**_Gerri: You’re an idiot. I need to get back to the girls. Let me know how you get on. Message if you need anything._ **

**_Roman: Ditto bish._ **

**_Gerri: I’m not even going to ask. Good luck x_ **

He’s in the heart of it now. Dinner had been gorged; a huge gourmet five course fucking event arranged by Ken, clearly trying to impress them all.

They had been jibing Connor’s presidential candidacy run for the past ten minutes; skilfully allowing him to continue rabbling on about his chances as they egged him on just so they could slam dunk a few good wisecracks.

“My petitions have been going well. We have people going around getting signatures in loads of states so we can petition for the candidacy in each one. Got quite a few already,” Connor smirks smugly as he takes a sip of his wine, whilst Roman and Shiv stifle a laugh.

“How can you even afford that?” Ken laughs openly.

“They’re volunteers. For the cause,” Connor smirks.

“What cause? The one for eccentric sons of billionaires who have lost their fucking minds?” Roman offers as he receives a laugh from Ken and Shiv.

“In all fifty states?” Ken asks.

“Nah, like twelve or thirteen. Virginia, Alabama, Louisiana, Texas are some of them. Can’t remember the rest. Then loads you don’t need signatures, just pay a fee,” Connor confirms, excitedly chatting.

“How many signatures do you need in each state?” Shiv challenges, wondering if he even knows anything about it.

“Oh, uhm. It’s different for every state. Some like 500 and some like 1,000,” Connor shrugs off as though he could easily get that many.

“Do 500 people even know who you are, bro?” Ken joins in laughing.

“Yeah! I actually have a very strong fan base on twitter,” Connor defends.

“How many followers? Put your number where your mouth is,” Roman demands laughing.

“Ehm… like twenty-five thousand or something,” Connor shrugs.

“Roman has like forty thousand,” Shiv laughs.

“And mine doesn’t even have any posts! Dad got Karolina to change the password and delete all the posts because it was causing too much havoc,” he laughs loudly as Shiv and Ken chuckle. “Maybe I should run for president,” Roman offers confidently with a smirk, leaning back in his chair and putting his hands behind his head. “Commander in Chief. I like the sound of that. My first point of order – a free Roman Roy cardboard cut-out for every US citizen, or a cap with my slogan. MAKE AMERICA GAY AGAIN!” He declares confidently.

“Even the overseas citizens?” Ken laughs.

“Fuck it. Why not? And let’s get rid of the budget for the… what’s it called… Shiv help me out… the thing you get when you’re too fucked to work,” he flicks his wrist towards Shiv with his eyes tightly closed.

“Unemployment?”

“No! What? You think I’m a fucking asshole? No. The one when you’re too fucked to work because you’re old! You need a number for it!”

“Social Security?” Ken suggests.

“Yes! Social Security! Thank you! Fuck. Yeah. Let’s get rid of that. Just kill the old people off when they’re too decrepit to work anymore. No point in them at that stage anyway. Burdens on society!” He declares with a smirk, waiting for any of them to bite.

“So, your big plan for if you become President of the United States of America is to commit senicide? Am I getting this right?” Shiv laughs as Ken smirks, Connor pondering thoughtfully.

“Yeah. Like intuits did it? Just took their elderly out and left them on the ice to die. Ancient Japan did it. Just carried them up the mountain and bam. In Rome they just flung them off a bridge. It was like a ritual. I was thinking somewhere more monumental. Like boot them off the Grand Canyon or off the big golf ball in Epcot. Take them to the top and just bam, a little shove and their history,” Roman reasons as seriously as he can muster. “Use the money for like I don’t know? Buy everyone a nice winter coat or one of those fidget cubes.”

“What a great way to spend over $1 billion dollars,” Shiv rolls her eyes as Connor finally pipes up.

“You know… that’s not a horribly bad idea,” Connor nods seriously.

“You’re kidding, right?” Ken offers an awkward laugh. 

“No, like think how much money we spend on social security and how we could use that for the people who are actually contributing to the country. Like it’s not a bad idea,” Connor explains analytically.

“I’m with you Con,” Roman supports with a smirk. “Got to concentrate on the worthy in this country. ‘MURICA!”

“Stop encouraging him,” Shiv punches Roman next to her with a laugh.

“So, like, what would you do then?” Ken challenges Connor. “You don’t have a job and you’re reaching hammer time?”

“I will have a job,” Connor states slowly. “I will be President of the United States.”

“No, _I’m_ going to be President of the United States,” Roman argues trying to wind him up. “And you’re not getting a position as one of the little head bitches. Whatever they call those people. Not even one of the shitty ones like fucking transportation.”

“Can I get one?” Shiv joins in.

“Obviously. You’re head of the foreign bitch affairs,” Roman responds immediately.

“Just what I wanted,” Shiv smiles directly at Connor.

“Ken, I would say you could be Vice President, but I don’t trust you not to betray me to take it for yourself,” Roman laughs as the Connor and Shiv wince through their sniggers; Ken simply smirking.

“Too soon?” Roman laughs, picking up his wine to take a sip. 

“Lil’ bit, bro,” Ken laughs.

“Can always give you Department of Labour or Commerce or something that you can’t do too much damage in.”

“Thanks,” Ken smirks into his glass of wine.

“How’s it going anyway? You found anything to wet your whistle in yet?” Shiv asks seriously.

“Oh, you know. Just the usual, a little bit of this and a little bit of that. Some advising and shit. I’m keeping my options open,” Ken offers awkwardly.

This is what Roman translates from Ken language as having absolutely hee haw in the works. He had to admit that Ken looks a little bit cleaner than usual. He doesn’t look like he’s sweating. He’s not restless or irritable tonight as he usually is when he’s on something. He’s not touched his nose once, his eyes don’t look dilated, he’s not as erratic as usual. He wonders if he was just recently out of a detox or he’s not touching the stuff. The last he knew he was still on the wagon but that was the night he showed up to his apartment. He’d seemed okay at the trial though. Maybe he’d got clean for that. He’s ashamed to admit he hadn’t really been making an effort with Ken in recent months, but then again, Ken hadn’t been making huge effort with him. A few texts here and there, but not a lot of attempts for anything more.

“And pop still hasn’t come around? He’s only got two days left. I thought he would have thawed by now facing that,” Connor asks reticently, looking to Shiv, the only one who would know the answer to that, the new favourite, the only one who regularly made any effort with Logan.

The tone becomes much more solemn, Ken looking down at his plate, Roman biting his nails as he waits for Shiv’s answer too, whilst she awkwardly shifts in her seat.

“I don’t think so, no,” she answers quietly, clearing her throat, deciding to look at Connor instead of Ken.

“I don’t think he’ll ever come around,” Roman adds resolutely. “He’s stubborn.”

“I mean,” Shiv scoffs, her attitude changing completely as she looks up to the ceiling. “Can you really blame him though? I don’t know if I could forgive that. Sorry Ken, but like, I don’t think I could,” she fires a little harshly; Ken wincing.

“He forgave the other two attempts,” Connor shrugs.

“But this is jail, Con. Ten years plus,” she says angrily. “He won’t ever get out.”

“Yeah,” Ken sighs, finally speaking up. “But I don’t regret it. He deserved it. He was toxic and he was playing us all,” he says confidently, looking at Shiv defiantly.

“He’s not that fucking bad,” Shiv laughs, sitting back in her seat, folding her arms defensively.

“He’s pretty bad, Shiv,” Roman agrees softly.

“What now you want him to go to jail, too?” Shiv turns on Roman furiously.

“No, I’m--,” Roman sighs. “That’s not what I’m saying. There’s no denying that he’s been toxic. That’s all.”

“I’ve never felt him toxic,” Connor shrugs, as Roman rolls his eyes.

“You’ve never been in it, dude,” Ken interjects soberly.

“It’s weird that Marcia wasn’t there as well, wasn’t it? Is that like over now?” Roman asks, trying to change the subject.

“Well she’s in France. Hasn’t been here for months. I think she moved her stuff out,” Shiv offers solemnly.

“I liked Marcia,” Connor adds with a nod.

“She was sly. I didn’t trust her,” Shiv scowls, picking up the bottle of wine and pouring herself a glass as Roman drains his, offering it to her to fill his up also.

“She wasn’t that bad,” Roman huffs with a laugh as Shiv pours his glass. “Would definitely make her Defense Secretary,” he smirks as he takes a sip of his wine whilst Shiv rolls her eyes.

“Defense? Come on,” Connor protests.

“Yeah. She was organised and like scary. I think she could do it,” he shrugs as he watches Ken smirk.

“I would have thought you’d gave that to Gerri then,” Connor laughs.

“Nah, he’d give her Justice,” Shiv determines seriously, as Roman slowly puts his glass down.

“Mmm. I don’t know about that,” Roman hesitates.

He determines that she would be First Lady. More realistically, he’d be her First Husband.

“What would you give her then?” Shiv challenges with a smirk. “My dear old godmother.”

“Secretary of State a la Hillary Clinton,” Ken teases, sitting back in his chair.

“I have my ideas,” Roman offers coolly, trailing his finger along the rim of his glass.

“Okay, what about Tom?” Shiv asks curiously.

“Tom? Is there a Department of Midwestern Goonery,” Roman laughs.

“Hey!” Shiv protests, punching his arm as he winces, rubbing it profusely.

“Tom? Really Shiv?” Ken scoffs, picking up his wine and sipping it, eying her over the rim of his glass.

“Why the fuck not?”

“Because he can barely run a department in Waystar unless Cyd is there to hold his hand and give him a popsicle,” Roman laughs as Ken and Connor join in.

“Now Cyd, there’s a good candidate,” Connor wags his finger to Roman.

“Department of fucking Witchcraft and Sorcery,” Ken laughs.

“Cyd would absolutely get Defense. Fuck Marcia. Imagine Cyd as the head of the armed forces. That would be sweeeeeet,” Roman determines seriously.

“What about your First Lady, Rome? Or First Husband, no judgement,” Shiv challenges with a quirked eyebrow.

She had been suspecting he’d been seeing someone but had yet to get anything out of him.

“Yeah, what’s happening with that bro?” Ken asks curiously. “Shiv said you dumped the chick you were crying over at my apartment.”

“I didn’t know my relationship status was such an exciting topic of discussion,” Roman offers flippantly.

“You’re seeing someone. I know you fucking are. You’ve been basically AWOL for months. That only happens when you get a girlfriend,” Shiv smirks, as Roman shrugs playfully.

It looked like the time had come and he’s shitting himself. He doesn’t know if he can do it. He knows he has to. It’s what he’s been waiting for for such a long time but now it’s here he can feel his temperature rising and the contents of his stomach churning. 

“Who is it? Someone in Waystar?” Connor chimes in.

“As a matter of fact,” Roman’s voice cracks before he clears his throat. “I am in a relationship,” he picks up his wine to take a huge gulp for a distraction or for courage he doesn’t fucking know.

“I fucking knew it,” Shiv throws herself back in her chair smugly looking to Ken and Connor.

“Good for you. When do we get to meet her?” Connor asks excitedly, as Ken takes in Roman’s nervous demeanour, his eyes sceptical.

“Who is it, bro?” Ken asks flatly.

“Well… uhm…,” Roman hesitates, blowing out a huge breath. “It’s Gerri,” he finally blurts out, taking another drink of his wine.

Shiv rolls her eyes as Connor starts laughing, however, Ken’s eyes remain sceptical.

“Why do you always do this? You can never give a straight fucking answer,” Shiv shakes her head frustrated.

“Yeah, Rome. Come on. Who is it?” Connor leans in, trying to pry it out of him.

Roman closes his eyes, takes another deep breath.

“No, seriously,” he gulps. “It’s Gerri. We’re in a relationship,” Roman states soberly.

“You’re such a fucking asshole,” Shiv grabs her glass annoyed. “Why can’t you just hurry up and tell us,” she snaps before taking a drink of her wine.

However, Connor’s expression has started to match Ken’s who has remained completely silent, as Roman nervously picks up his discarded fork on his plate, spearing it into his dirty cloth napkin.

“You’re not fucking kidding, are you?” Ken asks seriously, leaning forward trying to angle his head down to look at Roman’s expression, whilst Shiv looks at Ken as if he’s crazy.

Roman simply shakes his head, continuing to spear the fork hard into the napkin.

“Fuck. I didn’t expect that,” Connor breathes as he sits back in his chair, his eyes wide.

“You’re fucking joking, right?” Shiv barks, turning around fully to look at Roman now, as he again simply shakes his head in response.

“You’re dating Gerri?” Ken tries to clarify calmly with a huge smirk on his face, as Roman nods in response.

“Yep,” Roman finally looks up to them, taking in their expressions, offering an awkward laugh and then taking a deep breath, exhaling it slowly.

“My fucking godmother Gerri? Waystar Gerri?” Shiv raises her voice again exasperated.

“Yep. That’s the one,” Roman confirms lightly as he spears the fork into the napkin again.

“Fuck off,” Shiv breathes.

“Jesus. For how long?” Connor asks confused.

“For a while,” Roman offers, not really sure on whether he was supposed to play it down or tell them the truth, unsure how his dad would take the truth of how long it had actually been.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Shiv shakes her head, taking another aggressive drink of her wine.

“No, Siobhan,” Roman says, bored of her bullshit, pronouncing every syllable of her name slowly, as he looks up to her seriously. “I’m not kidding and we’re the real deal.”

“Yeah, fucking right,” Shiv scoffs, looking to Connor and Ken for support. “How are you two so fucking calm about this?”

“Is this the girl who you were upset about at my apartment that night?” Ken asks seriously. “The one you were in love with?”

“Yeah,” Roman nods, looking at them all confidently now, sick of their disbelief. 

He had nothing to hide. Nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing to defend. He loves her and he wouldn’t shy away from that. 

“You love her?” Shiv laughs again, shaking her head in confusion.

“Yeah. I love her and she loves me,” Roman shrugs. “I know it’s shocking,” he rolls his eyes, darting his tongue out, twinkling his fingers in mock jest, “but yeah. We’re together. We’ve been together for a while and it’s going to last the long haul.”

“But like isn’t Gerri like, sorry bro, but she’s old?” Ken hesitantly adds. “Like she’s going to be dead in the next 10-15 years, right?”

“Don’t fucking say that!” Roman bites harshly. “She’s not fucking old. Yeah, she’s old _ER_ than me but she’s not fucking old.”

“She’s fucking old, Roman. She’s what like 60ish? She had her sixth last year, right?” Shiv jumps in, looking to Connor and Ken.

“Hey! I’m fucking two years older than her and I’m not fucking old!” Connor protests.

“You are old,” Shiv dismisses quickly. “And her kids are like your age as well!”

“No, her kids are younger,” Roman counteracts. “Her eldest is like thirty-one. Her youngest is in her late twenties or something.”

“I can’t believe this!” Shiv shakes her head, pouting.

“How can’t you fucking believe it,” Roman challenges angrily. “You heard Con. He’s fucking Sixty-three. And Willa is what?”

“Thirty, but I don’t see how that’s important,” Connor offers seriously.

Roman holds his hands up as though his point has just been proven.

“No one bats an eyelid at that!” Roman defends.

“Everyone bats an eyelid at that,” Ken interjects calmly.

“Hey!” Connor protests again.

“No, we all batted an eyelid at her being a fucking call girl. Not her fucking age! No one gave a shit about her age!” Roman objects furiously, his hands thrown in the air wildly.

“HEY!” Connor protests again even louder this time. “She’s not a fucking call girl! She’s a playwriter! And she happens to be the love of my life.”

“Exactly!” Roman points at Connor. “We all accept Willa so why is it so hard to accept Gerri?”

“She’s too mature for you, dude,” Ken shakes his head sighing. “Like Connor and Willa are like the same maturity level.”

“Yeah, Gerri is a fucking legal assassin. She’s an actual mature, intelligent, cultivated adult human being. While you’re a fucking dumbass kid,” Shiv argues.

“I’m not a fucking dumbass kid. I’m thirty-fucking-nine!” Roman barks angrily.

“A very fucking immature thirty-nine,” Ken interjects.

“You fucking cunts don’t even know me. Don’t talk about shit you have no idea about!” Roman defends again.

“Surely, you’ve fucking asked yourself why the fuck she’s with you? It’s clearly not for the intellectual stimulation,” Shiv rolls her eyes, taunting him.

“Then what? The sex?” Connor offers confused, grimacing a little.

“No. She means Gerri trying to get a piece of the pie,” Ken sighs, looking at Roman resigned.

“That’s not what she’s trying to do,” Roman protests venomously.

“Come on!” Shiv laughs again. “Of course, she is! She gets close to a Roy. She gets intel on the family. She makes it so she’s indispensable at Waystar as a family member. She gets the Roy fortune when dad dies. Wise up, Rome. She’s using you,” Shiv declares trying to put a hand on Roman’s shoulder, which he quickly shrugs off.

“She’s not fucking using me. She loves me. None of you get it,” Roman stands up abruptly, pushing his chair out with a loud thud. 

They all speak at the same time that he finds it hard to process what they’re all saying.

“Calm down, dude. Sit down,” Ken offers across from him calmly.

“Look I get it,” Connor interjects.

“Come on,” Shiv laughs, gesturing up to him.

“Just because that was your fucking plan with Tom, doesn’t mean that everyone is so fucking conniving, Shiv. You can’t compare everyone’s relationship to your fucked up one!” Roman shouts angrily, picking up his glass and moving around the table to the door.

“Fuck you!” Shiv shouts.

“Come on man. That was uncalled for,” Connor protests standing up until Ken stands up pushing on Connor’s shoulder getting him to sit back down.

“I’m uncalled for?” Roman asks incredulously. “She’s fucking uncalled for!” He shouts pointing at Shiv as Ken approaches him, taking the drink off him and putting it on the table before shuffling him out of the room.

“Come on,” Ken offers. “Let’s go onto the balcony. Get some air.” He offers as Roman leads the way, muttering, his fists relaxing and contracting.

Once they’re outside, Roman leans up against the short wall, breathing deeply as he looks over the shining city against the grim darkness. He listens to the bustle; the cars honking, the people shouting; trying to ground himself.

“Here,” Ken says gently, offering Roman a cigarette.

“Is this weed?” Roman asks sceptically.

“Nah, dude,” Ken laughs. “Just good old tobacco.”

Roman takes one, allows Ken to light it for him as he takes a huge inhalation, blowing a massive cloud of smoke into the sky above him as he tilts his head back, closing his eyes. 

“She’s not in it for the money or the company, Ken,” Roman reveals quietly as he looks back down to him. “We’re legit. I swear. I know it sounds crazy but it’s true.”

“I believe you,” Ken claps his back with his hand, taking a draw of his own cigarette.

“She’s good for me, man,” Roman sighs, taking another draw. “I’ve changed. I feel like more grounded; more secure.”

“I’ve noticed, dude. I’m happy for you. But just be careful,” Ken advises reticently.

“Not you too, man. Come on,” Roman huffs, his foot kicking against the leg of the bench. “She’s not like that. You know Gerri. She’s not.”

“Gerri’s great at her job, Rome. The reason she’s great at her job is because she’s good at playing all sides. She’s calculated and that’s not a bad thing when she’s your legal counsel, but it can be a bad thing when she’s your old lady,” Ken teases.

“She’s not old man, Jesus fucking Christ man,” Roman argues, as Ken laughs heartily.

“I’m kidding. Fuck,” Ken soothes with a pat on the back as he takes another draw of his cigarette.

“She’s not like that with me, Ken. She’s not General Counsel Gerri. She’s a completely different person. Like really nice and I don’t know, caring,” Roman settles on as a shiver runs up his back talking about this with Ken.

“You sure she’s not like that because she knows it’s what you want?” Ken ventures.

“No, it’s more than that man. She’s open about her own shit. About the shit that’s happened in her life. It’s mutual man. It’s not like she takes care of me and I offer her nothing in return. We take care of each other. We’re a team,” Roman tries to explain. “I’m not fucking wording this right,” he grits frustrated, taking a final puff and throwing the cigarette over the balcony.

“If it’s legit, bro. I’m happy for you,” Ken smiles, following Roman’s lead and inhaling himself before throwing his own cigarette over.

“It is. I promise you. I’m not a little fucking moron who can’t see when someone’s taking advantage of me. It’s the real deal. I want to be with her forever,” Roman tells him resolutely, putting his hands in his pockets.

“What like, like marriage?” Ken scoffs.

“Eventually yeah. Like not yet but at some point, yeah.”

“Fuck. Would she even say yes? Like I just can’t imagine the Gerri I know having anything to do with you,” he laughs. “Like she’s all eyebrows and scowls whenever we’re around.”

“It’s part of her charm,” Roman jokes, smiling. “I think she would in the future. She said she would. We haven’t had anything other than this secret relationship. It’s been going on for over a year. We haven’t had the chance to figure out everything.”

“Over a fucking year?!”

“Yeah. Not like officially that long but there’s been something there for that long, yeah.”

“Fuck. So, like on the yacht and shit. You defended her and like,” Ken trails off, looking at him expectantly.

“Nah, I didn’t think she should get the chop anyway but of course I was going to defend her. She’s the only person who’s ever given a shit about me, Ken,” Roman reveals awkwardly.

“Dude,” Ken scowls. “She’s not the only one.”

“You know what I mean, man. You know what it’s been like. Why do you think we’re all so fucked up in our relationships? But she genuinely cares about me.”

“So, what, does she like tuck you into bed at night?” Ken jokes.

“Fuck off. She’s not my mom,” Roman smirks, opening up the door.

“Or is she like your big teddy bear. Big Ger Bear?” Ken laughs even harder following him into the apartment.

“Screw you, you fucking dickwad. Come and make your jokes when you’re not co-dependent on a Pierce. At least mine isn’t trying to end us all but I suppose as a traitor being with a Pierce is kind of your jam,” Roman chides, punching his arm as Ken grabs him playfully, putting him in a choke hold, and ruffling his hair, moving them towards the voices that are now in the living room, as Roman protests trying to punch Ken in the stomach.

“Let me go you fucking cunty Benedict Arnold fuck face,” Roman continues to muffle against Ken as he tries to continue punching him; Shiv and Connor now privy to the entanglement.

“Say please,” Ken laughs as he continues to grapple with Roman.

“Fuck you,” Roman spits back.

“Say Ken is the best,” Ken laughs.

“Would rather swallow Wambsgans load,” Roman grits in retort.

“Hey!” Shiv shouts laughing at the exchange, Connor simply looking on with a smitk.

“Say Gerri sucks and Ken would be a better CEO,” Ken laughs harder through his words as Roman becomes more irritated.

“You fucking piece of shit,” Roman shouts agitated, punching harder as Ken lets him go laughing, Roman fixing his shirt. “Don’t talk about her you ass piece or your fucking girlfriend is getting it!”

“Truce,” Ken smiles, holding his hands up.

“Where’s the hard stuff,” Roman huffs, walking towards the little bar, moving directly to the scotch.

“Roman, I…,” Shiv starts before Roman cuts her off.

“Shiv! I swear to fuck if you insult Gerri again, I’m going to pick you up and throw you off the balcony,” Roman warns still facing away with her, pointing to her behind his back and pouring a scotch with the other.

“Like you could lift me,” Shiv fires back.

“I’m serious, Shiv,” Roman turns around. “Don’t,” he warns dangerously.

“Okay, okay. Fuck!” Shiv offers backing off. “I just don’t understand. Like, I don’t get it.”

“You don’t have to get it,” Roman shrugs, sitting down on the armchair away from them, both Shiv and Connor perched on each side of the couch, as Ken moves to pour himself a drink.

“It’s legit, Shiv,” Ken interjects. “I believe him. I don’t think it’s a ploy from Gerri.”

Shiv looks at Ken’s back sceptically.

“Look, I’m honestly not trying to cause trouble. I’m trying to look out for you,” Shiv tries to sound more soothing.

“You don’t need to look out for me. I’m not a kid. I’d know if she was. It’s deeper than that. I don’t need to justify it to you. It’s happening. It’s staying and if you don’t like it then fuck you,” Roman shrugs, taking another sip of his drink.

“Come on, Rome,” Shiv tries to reason.

“No, Shiv. I’m serious. It’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Probably the one good decision I’ve ever made apart from coming away from the drugs and party lifestyle. I won’t let you or anyone else ruin it. I’m happy. I’m fucking ecstatic and no one is going to ruin it. You’d know if you saw her outside of being General Counsel. She’s more than that,” Roman reasons, looking at Shiv directly as she looks taken aback.

“She’s more than that,” she repeats as though trying to place it. “You said that on the yacht. When you were talking about dad treating her differently since she became the name on the paper. It’s been going on since before the yacht hasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Roman sighs. “It’s not a new thing. We’ve been together a while.”

“Fuck. How the fuck has she put up with you that long? Like fucking Gerri, man,” Shiv sighs.

“Because she loves me for who I am. She doesn’t see me as someone who needs put up with,” Roman fires back as Shiv begins to look guilty.

“Roman, I didn’t mean it like…,” she laughs awkwardly.

“Nah, that’s exactly what you meant. Everyone’s said it for years. Mom. Dad. The au pairs. Everyone. And it’s Gerri who’s made me finally fucking believe that I’m not someone who needs to be put up with. I’m like a good person who people would actually like to be around. So, fuck all of you. I would rather have someone like her,” he shrugs, not giving a fuck what they think anymore.

“Of course, you’re someone people want to be around, dude. You’re Roman. I mean, you’re a pain in the ass but that’s what makes you, you,” Ken interjects.

“But you see this is what I meant on the yacht. About why we can’t just talk about our fucking feelings and shit that’s going on, man. Like when I spoke to you on the yacht, Shiv and said you should try and figure it all out so your happier,” he shakes his head. “I’ve been able to start figuring it out. All the shitty stuff that’s been hanging over all of us for years, and its freeing man. I’m so fucking happy. You guys would be too if you got your shit together,” Roman reasons taking a sip of his drink.

“And you, the mighty Roman, have your shit together?” Shiv challenges.

“Not completely but yeah. I’m working on it. I’m getting there. So, accept Gerri or don’t. I don’t give a fuck. I’d rather you did, but no fucking skin off my back. She’s staying. So, bitch and moan and scream and yell, but she’s not going anywhere. If she does, I’m going with her,” he tells them resolutely, as Shiv looks worriedly to Ken, Ken’s brow furrowing as he settles on Roman.

“You sound pretty mature, bro,” Ken laughs as he finally takes a seat on the armchair next to Shiv.

“Just a new addition to my charm,” Roman offers flippantly, looking at his nails.

“I don’t think it’s that crazy,” Connor finally pipes up. “If it makes you happy, who gives a fuck?”

“Thanks bud. You can have the Department of Agriculture,” Roman deadpans as Connor huffs, Ken smirking, and Shiv rolling her eyes. 

“What about dad? Does he know?” Shiv asks seriously.

“No,” Roman becomes a little nervous again, tracing his nails against his trousers at his thigh. “I’m telling him on Sunday. So, don’t open your fucking mouths or it’s game fucking over for you.”

“So, you’re going to ruin Easter lunch the day before he goes to prison?” Shiv asks him mockingly. “That’s a fucking disaster waiting to happen.”

“It’s better to tell him in person, than through a little window through a little phone in the big house, don’t you not think?” Roman argues back.

“Yeah, but like the day before he goes to prison?” Connor winces.

“I didn’t want to do it earlier in case he came for Gerri. He’s going to think it’s a coup, which it isn’t. He’ll come back at us both and I don’t want that,” Roman tells them honestly.

“A Gerri move if I’ve ever seen one,” Shiv sniggers, shaking her head.

“No, actually. She wanted to tell him sooner. That was my idea,” he lies. It had been collective, but he doesn’t need to give them anymore ammo.

“He’s going to fucking blow, dude,” Ken interjects solemnly. “Glad I won’t be there, but I got your back bro.”

“Too fucking right, he will. He’s going to flip,” Shiv confirms.

“I mean, I would appreciate if you both,” Roman looks to Shiv and Connor, “would support me when he does.”

“I’m not even convinced this isn’t a fucking real thing myself. Despite being fucking weird, it smells of bullshit,” Shiv confirms.

“Shiv, I’m fucking warning you, man,” Roman threatens, his temper flaring.

“Okay, calm down,” Connor interjects. “I’ll support you. You’re going to need it because pops will definitely blow.”

“You’re going to eat your words, Shiv. Remember what everyone said about Tom when he first came on the scene. Remember what I said to you on the yacht man. I told you the shit that happened in our childhood’s. This is the one thing that’s counteracting that. Don’t fuck it up for me, Shiv. Be happy for me,” he pleads, his eyes wide, as she sighs, looking to both Connor and Ken, her resolve breaking.

“It’s still fucking weird,” she declares as she takes a sip of her drink.

“Everything he does is fucking weird!” Ken declares with a laugh.

“I bet this is like one of those yin and yang things, when they go so well together because they’re opposites that it just makes sense,” Connor tries to analyse it, pondering thoughtfully.

“Shut up, Connor. It’s definitely a mommy issues thing,” she jibes, laughing at Roman.

“Fuck you. Why does everyone always say that? She’s not my fucking mom,” Roman protests with a grimace.

“So, you’re fucking your mom?” Ken joins in teasing him.

“Fuck you, needle dick,” Roman spits across the coffee table.

“What would it even be like to fuck Gerri?” Connor asks wincing, as Roman aims a scowl towards him.

He wants to jump in and explain exactly how Gerri can fuck but that was against her cardinal rule. Never discuss their sex life with anyone. She was clear about that in Hawaii.

“I don’t know, man. Why don’t you ask Willa what it’s like to fuck you for a closer idea?” Roman retorts as Ken and Shiv burst out laughing.

“Yeah, Con,” Ken pipes up. “You’re hardly one to judge here. Roman might act like a kid but he’s not actually the age of one,” he jibes.

“Fuck you. Leave Willa out of this,” Connor defends resolutely.

“And you guys started screwing when she was in her twenties and you were sixty. That’s fucked up,” Shiv joins in, laughing at Connor.

“Least I’m not a fucking a junkie or offering Willa up as a sacrificial lamb,” Connor shrugs nonchalantly as he takes a long drink of his scotch.

Roman can’t help bursting out laughing, just happy that the conversation had moved away from him and Gerri, everyone seeming a little more accepting of it.

“Fuck you! Naomi’s not a junkie!” Ken shouts as Shiv pipes up.

“I didn’t offer him up as the sacrificial lamb. I fucking saved him from getting chosen you asshole. You all took my words out of context at the breakfast!” Shiv defends venomously.

“Well,” Connor continues shrugging as they continue to argue amongst themselves.

Roman sits back in his armchair, smirking just happy that he was back in his comfort zone: all of his siblings slaughtering one another instead of it just being him.

He wonders how Gerri is getting on with her daughters as he takes another drink. He wonders if she had told them yet, wonders if they took it just as shit as his family did at first. He tries to pull his phone out of his pocket as he types her a message one handed. 

**_Roman:_ **

**_Hey beautiful, how’s it going there? My ears are burning._ **

****

The rest of her night had been much calmer, generally talking about the business and Gerri revealing a little about her relationship with Roman. She had told them about their trip to London, the corporate retreat in Hawaii and how his accident, though they had known about it, really affected her, then the Christmas gifts they had exchanged; the townhouse in London and their renovations, then their plans for Vienna in a few weeks. They had seemed to be warming a little though Maddie had remained resolutely sceptical; Charlotte more concerned about why no one liked her boyfriend.

She settles into her bed a little after midnight, her head spinning from the copious amount of alcohol.

She had exchanged a few texts with him, discovering that his night had been just as strained though she was yet to get the details.

**_Gerri: Hey honey. I’m going to go to sleep. I’m exhausted and tipsy. Give me a call in the morning x_ **

She takes her glasses off, a final sip of her water on her bed side table before reaching for her lamp and switching it off when her phone starts ringing loudly.

She’s startled, though quick to pick it up in the dark, seeing Roman’s blurred name there before answering.

“Hey,” she says quietly settling back into her pillows, no desire to bring any attention to her daughters sharing the room next door.

“Hey. I was just about to message you. How you doing?” She hears him saying, a loud humming behind him.

“You didn’t have to leave on my account, Rome,” she smiles, closing her eyes, her head still light.

“Nah, I didn’t. We all left like twenty minutes ago. Dropped off Con first and Shiv just got out. I’m the last stop. In the cab now,” he explains, looking out the window to the whirring lights.

“Ahh. So, how did it go?”

He huffs loudly, blowing a raspberry for good measure.

“Was pretty fucking,” he sighs instead of finishing the sentence. “Yeah.”

“That good?” She frowns, pushing her hair back from her face, resting her arm above her head on the pillow.

“It was pretty fucking chaotic at first,” he laughs a little.

“Who had the issue? Or was it all of them?”

“Who’d you think?”

“Let me guess. My angelic goddaughter?” She shoots in the dark.

“Bingo. The queen of hell herself,” he growls as she laughs a little.

“What’d she have to say?” She asks though she has a few ideas.

“That you’re obviously trying to plot world domination in Waystar by fucking me and corrupting my virtuous soul,” he smirks as he bids the cab driver goodbye, slamming the door closed.

She laughs out loud at that.

“Virtuous soul,” she scoffs. “Yeah right.”

“You’re apparently an intelligent mature older lady who clearly can’t see anything in a tragic moron like me unless it’s as an advantageous ploy, while I’m a pathetic little loser who’s just happy to have a mommy who likes me,” he offers sarcastically as the door is buzzed open for him. “Hey man. How you doing?” He directs to Big Al.

“Doing good, Roman. How’s your night?” Gerri strains to hear Al shout back.

“I’m fucking drunk so a good night I would say,” Roman shouts loudly that she winces, pulling the phone away from her ear a little as she hears his little giggle.

“Is that you home then?” She asks, bringing the phone back to ear.

“Yeah, might lose you for a sec in the elevator,” he divulges as he presses the elevator button five times, looking up to see what floor it’s at.

“Okay,” she breathes. “I’m assuming that they were much harsher than that, but the message was the same.”

“No, that was just the highlights.”

“So, the highlights are that I’m a conspiring old woman,” she sighs. “Sounds about right.”

“No, you’re not fucking old,” he refutes as the elevator dings open. “Wait, I’m in the elevator.”

After a few minutes of silence, the phone finally disconnecting as she lies quietly with her eyes closed, he calls back.

“Hey, sorry,” he says as soon as she answers.

“It’s okay. So that’s Shiv. What about Ken and Connor?”

“Ken was chiller. Said you’re crafty in your job though. Calculated was the word,” he offers as he gets his keys out to open his door. “He said that’s great in a lawyer but not a girlfriend. But he came around once I explained shit. Con didn’t really have much of an argument. I reminded them all that Connor’s fucking older than you and Willa is younger than me, so I don’t think he had a leg to stand on. But he said we might be yin and yang,” he offers with a laugh, slamming his door closed, kicking his shoes off and removing his jacket.

“Well, that doesn’t sound so bad,” she sighs, playing with the hair at her crown. “So, they came around?”

“Kind of. I just fought with them. Told them I was happy and they didn’t know fuck all about our relationship so I didn’t give a fuck if they approved or not because it’s not going to change so,” he shrugs as he loosens his tie, undoing his top button as he makes his way towards his bar. 

“I don’t think that’s the best way to get them to come around to the idea, Rome,” she chuckles a little.

“I don’t give a fuck. Fuck them. Shiv is still kind of on the fence I think, but she was always going to be. Ken seems chill about it. Connor doesn’t give a fuck,” he says clinking the bottle against his glass as he pours himself a healthy portion. “What about Maddie and Charlotte, how did they take it?”

She sighs deeply, trying to lower her voice to ensure there was no chance of them overhearing her.

“Well, to be honest, it was kind of a side note in an emotional rollercoaster of a night,” she tells him honestly.

“Fuck. Really?” He asks sympathetically as he sits back on his couch, feet perched up on the coffee table.

“Yeah. I mean Maddie was outraged about it, of course, but Maddie was just outraged about everything to be honest. Charlotte took it easier. But I do believe the term “man child” was used,” she laughs, grazing her scalp with her nails.

“Wow. They’ve got me down to a tee,” he laughs, sipping his drink as he puts her on loudspeaker, sitting it on his chest.

“I know. I had the audacity to refute it,” she jests. “I think their perception of you, is more you ten years ago, which is what I told them. You’re not the party boy you used to be. Then the age difference thing obviously came up,” she sighs.

“Geez, can no one be original?” He asks with a laugh.

“Apparently not. Maddie did mention it as a ploy from me as well, but I shut it down pretty fucking swiftly before she could explain what kind of ploy, and I think she was too afraid to attempt it again,” she divulges, her eyes still closed.

“See, I wish I was as bad assed as you. Like just able to shut shit down with a fucking angry glare or raising my voice,” he smirks, lolling his head back against the sofa.

“I think that comes with the territory of being their mother to be fair,” she laughs. “I think they were more upset that I’d kept the secret for so long to be honest. That seemed to be the theme of the evening,” she bites the inside of her mouth, trying to think past the cloud of her tipsiness.

“The Baird shit?”

“And more,” she huffs.

“Fuck. Like what?”

“The dirty work for Waystar mainly by both of us, though I tried to explain it. But then the bomb dropped was that Maddie knew about Baird’s affairs,” she pauses, waiting for his inevitable interruption.

“Fuccccckkkkkk,” is all he drones out.

“Yeah. Apparently, she heard a fight between Baird and I years ago. When I found out about Lily,” she explains sadly.

“That was the eight year one, right?”

“Yeah. But I apparently mentioned the countless others in the argument. So, I had to explain to them how I’ve moved on from it and how it doesn’t affect how good a dad he was to them,” she sighs deeply as he pouts for her sad tone.

“That’s shitty, Gerri. You ok?”

“Yeah,” she huffs. “Was just a conversation I never thought I would be having with them. But it’s better this way I suppose. They want more insight into my life and that was one of the biggies. Maddie was worrying me though,” she bites her lip nervously again.

“Why?”

“She’s so angry, Rome. At me mainly. I don’t know if at Baird as well. But she didn’t believe I loved her; that I want the best for her and to be involved in their lives. And that,” she chokes on her words a little, her eyes welling up, “was heartbreaking.”

“Don’t let it upset you, babe,” he tries to soothe. “I’m sure she knows you love her.”

“What kind of mother am I when my own children don’t know I love them?” She agonises as her tears flow a little freer whilst she wipes them away.

“Don’t cry, babe. Come on. They know you do. Did Charlotte say the same?”

“No, she was actually quite defensive of me,” she struggles out as she draws in a few sharp breaths.

“Then there you go. So, it’s just Maddie that is struggling with it. Makes sense. She’s the older one but it’ll pass,” he reasons, as his heart breaks for her; he hates listening to her cry.

“Yeah, maybe,” she sniffs.

“You just need to keep reminding her. Just need to spend all the time you can getting involved in her life,” he advises, draining the remainder of his glass before putting it on the coffee table. “I wish I was there. I hate hearing you upset.”

“Oh, I’m fine!” She tries to shrug off, clearing her throat to try and get it together. “It did get better. I just kept telling her I did and tried to explain everything, and she eventually broke down into tears which gave me the chance to comfort her. Then I tried to open up about everything that happened and us a bit more,” she breathes deeply. “I think it’s what we needed. Just a bit of honesty to start fresh. I thought we had at Christmas, but I think we needed a full purge.”

“Exactly,” he offers strongly. “Everything will be fucking great! You can go and visit them and shit, and do like whatever moms and their daughters do. Go on spa retreats or something. Take them to the London townhouse when it’s finished. They might like that! Can go to the theatre and shit. I can try and see what shows are on for you,” he says quickly, already moving to search on his phone.

“Yeah, that’s a good idea Rome. Maybe we can plan some time away,” she smiles. “I think they want to meet you at some point. I told them they’d love you and how charming you can be,” she smiles as he pauses on his phone.

“Yeah?” He asks, the thought of meeting them making him even more nervous than he was telling his own siblings everything. “I don’t know if they would but I’m going to try.”

“It’ll be fine. I know it can be nerve wracking. I remember meeting Baird’s family. I was a lot younger than him too, so it was a little precarious. His sister was a fucking uppity bitch as well, so she didn’t take to me. I’m glad I don’t have to do that this time, though I’ll have to face the Roys at some point. I can’t imagine Shiv being pleasant,” she laughs a little.

“Fuck Shiv. Little cunt. You know you can just death stare them all into submission anyway,” he grits out as she laughs a little more.

“So, we came out the other side of it then? Our families know,” she confirms with a sigh. “Feel any different?”

“Freer. I still have to tell my dad though and my mom at some point I suppose,” he gulps loudly, closing his eyes.

“I wish I could come with you, but I have the girls and I can’t be seen there,” she explains for the umpteenth time.

“It’s cool. I asked Con and Shiv to try back me up,” he divulges.

“You think they will?”

“Yeah. I don’t they want to see me pulverised. Shiv’s a bitch but she’s trying to protect me. I know that. She’s always been like that. She can just go overboard, man,” he reveals puffing.

“Well, I’m glad you’ll have some support at least,” she hums, her eyes closing. “I’m getting sleepy.”

“I wish I was there,” he tells her softly with his eyes closed. “Just to sleep, though I’m down to fuck too.”

She laughs at that, turns onto her side groaning.

“I mean I wish you were here too, but I don’t think I’d be awake enough for anything but sleep,” she smiles, pressing harder into the pillow. “It has been a while, though.”

“Yeah, with all the shit going on. Fifteen days and seventeen hours. Least I’ve got to sleep in your bed a lot in that time. I’ll take it,” he offers with a smirk.

“You’re fucking counting the days since we last had sex?”

“I just remember when it was. The time I came to see you before dad’s sentencing. It’s fine though. We’ve been tired and shit.”

“I’ve been tired you mean,” she fires back.

“No, we’ve been tired. And I’ve been an emotional wreck, so I get it. But I’m ready to get back on the saddle,” he flirts shamelessly, as she hums in agreement.

“What about Monday night? Come over after the girls leave. I’ll need to catch up on work but I’m sure we can fit it in before bedtime.”

“I was going to ask if you wanted to do Monday anyway because you know, dad going in. I don’t know how I’ll be.”

“Then it’s settled. I can come to you if you want?”

“Nah, it’s fine,” he stands up groaning as he makes his way towards his bedroom. “I’ll come to you. Will bring food.”

“Okay honey,” she smiles. “I’m glad today’s out of the way. Feels like it’s finally coming together. Not long now. This time next week, everyone’ll know.”

“Then we can live freely,” he says unbuttoning his shirt.

“Well, I’m sure the media will be crazy so maybe not freely,” she laughs.

“Then you come stay with me until it dies down, so you don’t get hounded,” he suggests throwing his shirt across the room.

“Mmm, maybe,” she hums, settling deeper. “I’m falling asleep, Rome.”

“Then go to sleep. I’ll stay on the phone with you,” he offers undoing his belt.

“Okay, honey. G’night.”

“Night babe.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

****

She’s out for brunch with her daughters the next morning. They had come to a beautiful restaurant that served the most delicious coffee. Exactly what she needed after a night of wine and emotional turmoil.

They had all been much better today. She’d been making a special effort with them. Complimenting them both on how beautiful they had looked, linking Maddie’s arm as they strolled down the sidewalk. And here they were as she watched them tuck into their meals; Maddie complaining about how Charlotte could eat so many pancakes with that much syrup and stay so thin.

However, a phone call from Karolina becomes an unwelcome distraction as she excuses herself and gets up from the table to answer, walking outside.

“Hey,” Gerri answers lightly, taking in the fresh air, the beautiful sunshine on her face, feeling completely at peace.

“Gerri?” Karolina barks distressed. “Gerri, where are you?”

Gerri’s demeanour changes immediately. She doesn’t like Karolina’s tone; it definitely wasn’t good news.

“I’m at brunch with my daughters. What’s wrong?”

“It’s hit, Gerri. The story about you and Roman. Fucking Us Weekly are going to leak it any minute now. We need to move everything up,” she quickly fires out anxiously.

Her stomach drops, her head falling instantly into her hand as her eyes close.

“Fuck. Does Roman know?” Gerri asks.

“I was just about to phone him. Unless you want to,” Karolina offers pleadingly.

“I’ll phone him. Ehm… we need to meet. Probably Roman’s apartment. I don’t know. I’ll message you after I get off the phone with him, okay?”

“Yeah, okay. Let me know.”

“Okay, bye,” Gerri hangs up the phone, muttering fuck continuously under her breath as she looks up Roman’s contact so she can call whilst moving back into the restaurant.

She sits down abruptly, hovering her thumb over his name as she looks up to them, absolutely not happy that she’s about to ruin their whole day spending time together.

“What’s wrong?” Charlotte asks.

“Someone’s leaked the story about me and Roman,” she sighs.

“I thought that wasn’t until next week?” Maddie asks.

“It wasn’t supposed to be. I’m so sorry, but I need to go and sort it all and I can’t be out in the open just now or I’m going to be hounded eventually. I need to meet with Roman and our PR to try and figure this out. It won’t take me long. Why don’t you guys finish up here and go shopping without me, and then we can meet up in a few hours once I’ve sorted all this out? Get whatever you want, and I’ll pick up the tab?”

“Mom, you don’t need to do that,” Charlotte offers.

“I know, but I feel bad. It’s going to blow up. I just wanted a relaxing day. Fuck,” Gerri groans, putting her forehead in her hand.

“It’s okay, Mom,” Maddie offers surprisingly. “Go smooth it over. We’ll catch up with you later. Can do something later on?”

“You’re sure?” Gerri asks panicked.

“Yeah. Go before we all end up papped,” Maddie encourages.

“Thank you. Thank you,” Gerri gets up quickly, putting her coat on, moving around to kiss both of them on the forehead. “I won’t be long. I promise.”

“It’s okay. We’ll see you later,” Charlotte offers.

Gerri storms out of the restaurant, pressing Roman’s contact as she listens to the phone ringing, hailing a cab at the same time.

“Hello,” she hears groggily on the other side.

“Rome?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please excuse this if it's shit. I was writing it in between fighting with my whole family about US politics.  
> Also, HWFG for a Logan v Roman next chapter :)))))))


	4. Freedom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning - Abuse

Gerri, Roman, and Karolina are huddled in Roman’s apartment; Gerri on her phone, Roman on his tablet, and Karolina on her laptop, scrutinising the article.

“I mean, there’s not much in it,” Karolina determines. “ _Rumours have been circulating that there is an ongoing relationship between the recently initiated Waystar Royco interim CEO and their COO Roman Roy, son of recently convicted Logan Roy_ ,” she quotes out loud. “It just starts talking about the turmoil of the company, some information Gerri gave to Forbes last year, and some of Roman’s previous escapades. There’s nothing in it.”

“Yeah, it’s not like there’s photos or anything,” Roman determines, as Gerri reads the words over again biting her lip. “But how could they even get that information? No one knew. The people who know wouldn’t betray us. The board can’t under strict confidentiality, right?”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Gerri determines, sighing. “They could tell their wives or their kids, then they could tell one of their friends and before you know it, someone knows someone who writes for a piece of trash like this or someone just sells it to them,” she reasons, still staring at the words of the article.

“You don’t think it was,” Karolina hesitates for a second. “It wouldn’t be one of your family members would it? Ken or Shiv or?”

“No!” Roman protests, his eyebrows furrowing. “They only found out last night. It’s not enough time to do that. And they wouldn’t do that. Would they?” He asks faltering, doubting the trust he’s put in them as he looks between Gerri and Karolina.

“I don’t know, Rome,” Gerri shrugs, settling a hand on his knee, giving a small rub before moving it back to her phone again. “It doesn’t matter anyway,” she huffs. “It’s just moved up what we were going to do next week. We just need to think about how to get in front of this now before more people come forward and make it worse.”

He sits there angrily, throws the tablet to the side, looking at Gerri annoyed.

It did fucking matter. He hadn’t told his dad yet, and there was no doubt he was going to see this. He was nervous enough about having to tell him without having it blow up in his face like this.

“Well,” Karolina begins. “The Vanity Fair interview was supposed to happen on Wednesday. I’ll see if I can get a hold of them and move it up to Monday or Tuesday. Laura’s nice enough. I don’t see her taking issue with it.”

“So, until then we just lay low,” Gerri confirms. “Don’t give it any credence.”

“Yeah. I don’t think it would be a bad idea to maybe issue a statement though. The issue isn’t that you don’t want to confirm it; it’s that you want to control the narrative. The article with Vanity Fair will do that. Just now it’s in a gossip magazine so no one is going to pay it any huge attention. We could maybe release a short statement just stating that it’s true? That the board already know about it in accordance to the Notification clause and that no rules have been broken,” Karolina shrugs, throwing ideas around.

“Is that a good idea?” Gerri questions. “Considering it will just give more opportunity for gossip columns to create their own narrative in between confirming it and getting our own version of the story out? Surely, they’ll start looking for anyone who’s willing to give some information. Drivers, doormen, any of the retreats we’ve been on,” Gerri reasons, biting her lip and looking at the article again.

“And I’m not being funny, but my fucking dad doesn’t even know yet. Neither does my mom,” Roman scowls. “We can’t release a fucking confirmation statement before I’ve even told them.”

Gerri looks up to him for the first time, noting his almost angry attitude. She wonders whether this was due to the abruptness of this whole thing or something else.

“Then maybe we wait to find out when the interview can take place and how soon Vanity Fair can publish it,” Karolina suggests. “If we maybe release the statement the day before they publish it then that won’t give enough time for them to twist it. If we can get the interview on Monday or Tuesday, published by Wednesday, then we can release a statement on Tuesday,” Karolina suggests, biting the inside of her mouth after, waiting for their reactions.

“We’ll have to hold a meeting with the heads of departments and tell them too,” Gerri decides. “So, I’ll set that up for Tuesday morning. They will need to find out before the statement is released. Give them a warning about not allowing office gossip within their departments and so on. And I’ll need to contact the board and let them know our intention to release it earlier than expected,” Gerri flicks her hair back looking between Roman on the couch next to her on one side and then to Karolina sitting on the armchair on the other side, before reverting back to her phone, messaging her assistant to set up those meetings up.

“But my dad’s going to jail. Like, don’t you think we have enough to be getting on with on Monday?” Roman argues.

“Rome,” Gerri starts gently, pausing her half-written message. “I don’t want to be unsympathetic because I know it’ll be a hard day, but your dad going to jail might actually work in our favour. The press’ll be focused on him and trying to get a picture of him giving himself up and the story surrounding that rather than on us.”

“That’s fucking grim, Gerri. Real fucking barbaric, man,” he sighs diving back into the couch cushions and sighing as Gerri and Karolina follow his movements, watching his expressions.

“It may be grim, Rome, but we need to work this situation to our advantage to minimise any damage so we don’t end up fucked,” she whips her head around casually to Karolina instead, ignoring him. “Okay, so what do we do for now then?”

Karolina’s eyes widen as she looks down to her laptop whilst Gerri continues to types the rest of her message and sends it off.

“Uhm… just sit tight. I’ll get in contact with Laura and get back to you both about the interview. For now, I would just make sure you contact the people who do already know and make sure they don’t open their mouths to anyone about it. Let them know that you’re handling it. With the press hounding you, I would just offer no comment. Keep your head down. Don’t confirm it with anyone. No more confirming to friends or family members either. We can’t chance anyone else knowing and leaking information,” Karolina explains softly.

“I mean, I’m telling my fucking dad tomorrow. I’m going to have to call my mom as well,” he argues defiantly, looking at his phone.

Gerri rolls her eyes at his shitty tone, doesn’t even offer a glance around to him, simply keeps them fixed on Karolina who looks nervous.

“That should be okay, Roman,” Karolina ventures softly, though there was no denying that he was about to tell the two most untrustworthy people.

“What about my daughter’s husband? He’s flying in this evening. I would assume she’s already told him by now anyway,” Gerri asks, finally locking her phone, unwilling to look at any comments about it anywhere.

“Yeah, I’m sure that’ll be fine. Just give him a special Gerri mother-in-law warning to keep it under wraps and I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Karolina chances a joke as Gerri offers a small smile in return.

“Fuck, my mom’s calling,” Roman huffs behind her. “I need to take this,” he stands up abruptly, walking to the bedroom. “Hey mom. How you doin’?” She hears him trail off in the distance as his bedroom door closes.

“Is he okay?” Karolina ventures awkwardly.

“He’ll be fine. He’s likely just stressed from the whole situation. Logan, you know. Then he told Ken, Connor, and Shiv last night, so there’s that too. It’s probably just not going as smoothly as we thought it would and it’s messing with him,” Gerri tries to explain.

“I get it,” Karolina nods kindly. “And how did it go with you telling your daughters last night?”

“It was a shock at first, but I think they know they don’t have much of a choice but to accept it,” Gerri offers vaguely, not willing to go into the whole conversation.

“Oh, well that must be a relief that it’s out of the way at least,” Karolina smiles, as they sit in silence for a moment.

“Have you seen any comments or anything on it? Seen how it’s being received on social media?” Gerri asks nervously, unsure if she even wants to know the answer.

“Ehm… no but I can have a look now,” Karolina instantly starts scrolling around on her laptop. “You want to know all the comments? Even bad ones? Or just a sum up?”

“Uhm… I don’t know,” Gerri licks her lip and begins biting it as she thinks. “Just the highlights,” she decides.

“Okay,” Karolina breathes as she takes a few minutes to sift through them. “Ehm… there’s a few just kind of trying to determine how much of an age gap there is. Then others commenting on it asking if the age thing even matters. Some defending you saying that this wouldn’t be a big topic if you were a man. Some suggestion that Roman could be doing it so he can remain within the company since the Roy’s are on the way out with his dad going to jail and Ken’s shit,” she continues.

“Oh fuck. That’s new. Never thought of that as an angle,” Gerri offers surprised, moving forward to lean on her knees.

“Yeah,” Karolina trails off. “One comment says _“It’s their lives. Leave them alone.”_ Thank you, Top Fan, Glenda Dunn,” Karolina laughs as Gerri snickers. “Ehm… you really shouldn’t be paying attention to these comments anyway. They don’t even know the whole story yet,” Karolina looks up to her, her eyes saying it all.

“What does it say, Karolina?” Gerri asks directly, as Karolina looks back to her sheepishly, looking nervously at the laptop again.

“Uhm… someone asked if that’s how you got Interim CEO,” Karolina inverts her lips awkwardly, waiting for a bad reaction that never comes as Gerri simply nods slowly. “But they don’t know the whole story yet and they clearly don’t know you. They’re just keyboard gangsters trying to be funny and get likes on their comments,” she tries to defend quickly.

“It’s okay, Karolina. We all knew comments like that were coming. It’s all right,” Gerri offers a tight smile as she looks up to the hallway Roman had disappeared down, wondering how his conversation was going. “You don’t need to stick around you know. We’ve already taken enough of your day off,” Gerri smiles kindly to her.

“You’re sure?” Karolina offers, packing her laptop away in her purse.“I’ll send that email off and get back to you both as soon as I know something,”

“Okay. Great. Thank you,” Gerri offers a little nervously, standing up to walk Karolina to the door.

“It’s really not that bad,” Karolina tries to assure, touching Gerri’s elbow lightly. “It’s vague enough to get ahead of it and control the narrative. On a scale of PR fuck ups this like a two,” Karolina tries to joke.

“Yeah, I’ve had my fair share of tens and this isn’t up there,” Gerri smiles, opening the door.

“Tell me about it. I’ll call you later. Enjoy your Easter!” Karolina waves, walking out the door.

“You too!” Gerri says before closing the door behind her.

She leans against it for a moment sighing; considers going and pressing her ear to the bedroom door to see if she can make anything out, but instead decides to make herself a coffee.

She’s sitting on the sofa, her phone face down, the temptation to try and read the reactions high; her hands curled around her mug of coffee the only thing stopping her. She sits there for maybe ten minutes before he reappears.

He enters the room with a huff, pushing his hair back from his face before he falls onto the back of the armchair, hanging over it like a corpse. He hadn’t had the chance to change out of his pyjamas, nor had the chance to shave, having been woken by her phone call. He looks up to her, his face worn, elbows perched on the back of the chair.

“Well, that was just lovely,” he snorts. “Is that coffee?”

“Mhm,” she nods, taking a sip. “There’s some ready if you want it.”

“Fuck yes,” he pushes off the chair, walking towards the kitchen as she gets up following him.

“So, how did it go?” She asks, sitting at the kitchen table, the mug jutting against the wooden surface as she sets it down; irking her.

“Well it was mom so full of backhanded compliments, obviously,” he laughs, pouring the coffee into his favourite mug, before swinging around to sit across from her. “She’s very happy for us. Mainly because she thinks it’s going to drive my dad to insanity and that gives her everything she wanted in life.”

“So glad we could provide such mirth for her,” Gerri says coolly.

“Had plenty of good things to say about you. That you’re mature which is what I need because I’m such an erratic mess. Said you could tame me,” he snorts, looking up to her over the rim of his mug.

“Little does she know,” she raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah, well, she also started telling me about how I had to be careful because at your age the libido starts to go,” he raises a challenging eyebrow back. “VERY little does she know.”

Gerri smiles at that, a little embarrassed.

“Tell me you didn’t give that a reaction?”

“Nah, cardinal rule number one. No talking about Gerri’s sex life,” he recites with a smile, huffing after. “She was always the least of my worries. She doesn’t care about anything. She will offer snipes but that’s about it. That’s just her. Even if I brought home fucking Mother Teresa, she would find something to snipe at. _Ugh, look at that hideous sari. Blue and white are just not fitting for her complexion. All that time doing work for charity, how could she ever prevent you from your erratic indulgences, ugh,”_ he imitates Caroline in the most proper English accent he can muster, as Gerri offers a grin.

“Caroline was always that. Judgmental,” she smiles shaking her head. “Always made her the most amusing person to sit next to at a dinner party though.”

“Yeah. It’s not her that’s the problem though. Is it?” He huffs, looking down at the steam coming from his coffee. “He’s going to fucking kill me.”

She sighs, unsure what to say, unsure if she should say anything.

“You don’t seem too hot in this whole thing, Rome,” she ventures softly, raising the mug to her lips. “Do you want to back out?”

“What?” His tone is angry, his head snapping up.

“We can just deny the whole thing if you want to. Can tell the board that it didn’t work out,” she suggests sadly, looking at him in the eye, offering a sad smile also.

“No, I don’t fucking want to back out,” he spits angrily. “Why would you even say that? Do you want to back out? And what do you mean tell the board it didn’t work out? That we go back to a secret relationship or like end the whole thing?”

“Rome,” she sighs. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“I’m fucking not. I’m looking for some clarification.”

“I don’t want to back out. I want to get this over with,” she bites the inside of her mouth, her brow furrowing.

“Get this over with? Fucking nice,” he shakes his head, hunching over as he blows on his coffee.

“You know what I mean. I want to get all this shit with telling everyone out of the way and all the backlash that comes with it so it can be over with and we can just be. We can just have a normal fucking life together,” she tries to explain to the crown of his head.

“So do I! Why would you think I want to back out?” He fires back, looking up to her again.

“Well you didn’t seem too hot on the whole plan and I don’t know. It’s a feeling that’s radiating off you,” she tries to explain.

“It’s just not going how I thought it was going to. I was going to tell my dad tomorrow night when I could catch him off guard before he got any fucking ideas so I could clearly explain it. Now he’s going to have even more time to just come up with his own fucking ideas and it’s going to make it even harder,” he tries to explain in return, picking up the mug and taking a huge gulp.

“I know, Rome. But it’s the hand we’ve been dealt. It won’t be that bad. It’ll be okay,” she tries to soothe, reaching her hand across the table.

“Gerri,” he sighs. “We both know it won’t be. He’s going to have time to sit and plan his fucking tactical pouncing on me,” he panics as his phone lights up again, a phone call coming through.

“Fuck, it’s Jeane,” he looks up to her with wide eyes, completely panicked.

“Jeane, who?”

“Dad’s assistant.”

“Then, answer it,” she encourages quickly, swaying her hands towards him as he fumbles to pick it up, swiping it along and holding it to his ear, whilst she drinks the remainder of her coffee.

“Jeane! Hey. How you doin’?” He says with a smile, his eyes closing tightly as she watches him nervously.

It couldn’t be good. They both knew that.

“Oh, okay. Ehm… just now? I’m in the middle of something just now. Got a busy day ahead. Can he not just wait until tomorrow?”

She watches as his eyes open, pleadingly looking at her, listening to Jeanne prattle on.

“Ehm… would he be able to do tonight then? I probably won’t be around until like eight though?”

She watches as his eyebrows rise to his hairline, his breath quickening.

“Mhm… that’s fine. Eight it is. Okay, great. Thanks Jeanne! Have a great Easter,” he offers before hanging up the phone and burying his head in his hands.

“He wants to see me. Wanted me to come up right now. I’m going up at eight instead. Wanted to bide myself some time,” he huffs, as she stands up moving around to sit on the seat next to him, edging it closer to him as she puts her arms around him, pulling him into a hug as he wraps his arms around her back, settling his chin on her shoulder.

“Mmm, this is awkward and sore,” he groans as he pulls away.

“Sorry,” she says, looking around for an alternative. “Uhm…”

“Come here,” he offers, pushing his chair out, the legs scraping across the floor, and patting his knee.

“I’m too heavy for your scrawny twig legs,” she smiles, her hand rubbing his forearm.

“Fuck you. I work out. Been doing plenty of leg days,” he refutes, patting his thighs again. “Please.”

She stands slowly, backing onto his thighs as he wraps his arms around her, her arm firmly around his shoulders as he burrows into her neck, her cheekbone firmly perched against his crown.

“That better?” she asks softly, rubbing his back and arm soothingly as his wrists interlock to pull her in tighter.

“Mhm,” he nods, kissing her jawline before settling in with his eyes closed.

“I don’t think you should go, Rome. I think you should put him off,” she treads delicately.

“Why?” He asks pulling back to look into her eyes.

“Because, honey,” she begins, pushing his hair back from his face. “I think you should wait until someone’s there with you. Connor and Shiv are going to be there tomorrow. I don’t want you facing that alone. I would come with you, but I really can’t. I’ve already ditched Maddie and Charlotte today to come here. I can’t do it tonight as well,” she admits sadly.

“I can do it myself. I’m not an idiot,” he professes, though she shakes her head immediately.

“Not because I think you’re stupid, honey. But because I don’t want you to have to face it alone. You need emotional support,” she reassures.

“I’ll be fine. I need to go, Gerri. You know my dad. You don’t say no. The fact I postponed was a fucking liberty.”

“I know. I just don’t like it. I’m worried,” she bites her lip, her face scrunching up.

“It’s fine. It’ll be fine,” he tries to bolster himself. “It’s just telling him about something great in my life. Like getting into University or like getting a promotion or my first lay. It’s a good thing. Need to stop looking at it ominously,” he professes.

“Of course, it’s a good thing,” she repeats softly, stroking her hand against his stubble, leaning in for a light kiss which he returns happily. “You’ll be fine. Just say your peace and leave.”

“Yeah,” he sighs, rubbing his hand across the soft fabric of her floaty pants down her thigh.

“We’re not doing anything wrong. And one day won’t make a difference, right? He won’t be able to achieve anything scathing with an extra day,” she tries to reassure.

“Yeah,” he agrees again, his hand trailing again. “What if he starts laying into me?”

“You always have the option to leave. Just walk away. It’s not worth the repercussions of staying,” she tells him seriously, watching as he nods, his mind a thousand miles away, as her mind drifts back to the horrible dream she had a few months ago; the main reason she feels guilty that she can’t be there. “Hey,” she takes his jaw, pulling it to look up into her eyes. “Just walk away if he starts anything. Okay?”

He smiles, leans up to kiss her more soundly this time, his kiss quickly becoming passionate as he runs his tongue across her lips, gaining access.

It’s been so long since they’ve done anything, and he can feel his passion for her becoming overwhelming.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” she mumbles against his mouth as he pushes her cardigan off her shoulder, moving his kisses down to her jaw. 

“I won’t,” he whispers, undoing some of her buttons on her shirt to reveal her plain white bra.

“Rome,” she groans, her eyes fluttering closed as his hand at her back pulls up her shirt so he can feel the warm skin against her spine.

“Gerri,” he whispers back as she presses her bottom firmer into his crotch, her fingers trailing the back of his neck, sending tingling waves through his whole body.

“I need to get back to the girls,” she feigns a protest, pressing her chest into his palm that’s found its way under her bra to brush her nipple.

“I just want you so much,” he breathes as he trails back up to her mouth, running his tongue back over hers as she returns with earnest for a minute or so.

“We need to be quick then,” she whispers pulling away from his lips, standing up quickly and shrugging her cardigan off before throwing it onto the table, whilst sliding out of her flat shoes. She notes his mug of coffee, unwilling to take the chance of it being bumped, she lifts it, moving it onto the nearby counter before returning in front of him.

He looks up to her with seductive eyes, panting as he watches her unbutton her pants and push them and her underwear to the ground in one motion.

“Fuck, Gerri,” he breathes as he reaches out to touch her bare hip, pulling her towards him as she straddles his lap with a smirk.

“I know, Rome,” she whispers, pushing her pelvis into his growing hard on. “It’s been a while,” she breathes against his lips as she reaches between them to move under his pyjama pants to grasp him, releasing him into the open air as she jerks her fist up and down around him whilst she devours his mouth.

He pushes his hips up hard to meet each stroke, whilst running his hands desperately across the tops of her thighs and then her behind as he pulls her harder against him. When they begin struggling for breath, he moves his tongue down her to her chin, licking and then grazing his teeth across her neck. She can feel that coil in her lower stomach twisting as he runs his hands up to her waist, moving to undo the remaining buttons of her shirt so his mouth can run across the swell of her breast.

He begins sucking and teasing her there, moving past the barrier of her bra as his digits press hard across the flesh of her stomach and waist when he opens the shirt fully. She feels her hips involuntarily gyrating against nothing as she continues pumping his now hard dick that she knows is begging to be inside her.

“That feel good?” she whispers, smirking as her other fingers lightly teases the skin under his t-shirt between his shoulder blades.

“You have no fucking idea,” he mumbles against her breast, her nipple now deliciously trapped within his mouth as he drives her crazy with his tongue.

He can feel her desperation as her hips jerk in rhythm, a signal he has learned over these months that Gerri needs to be touched. As one of his hands splay across her lower back, his other moves in between them, sure to not knock her own pumping hand away from its ministrations, so he can find her pulsating bundle of nerves.

He’s excited to find that she’s already wet, her muscles already clenching in anticipation for him. He can’t help the smirk against her breast as he pulls back, looking up to her take in her pants of pleasure, pushing his mouth against hers as his two digits press hard against her nub. He captures her moans in his mouth, her tongue moving wildly against his as her hips grind harder into him.

He can’t help feeling a victory that she wants this just as much as he does. He’s not been thinking about sex of late as much as he usually would; the small dip in his mood making him more interested in just seeking her comforting presence instead of being inside her. However, he must have forgotten how much he fucking adores her, how much he fucking wants her, how crazy he can drive her, and how much he fucking needs this.

He allows her to continue whatever rhythm she wants to set, temporarily distracted as she rubs her hand over the head of his dick, spreading the precum that is releasing over it as she moves to set a faster pace around him, his own moans entering her mouth.

“Gerri,” he pulls back, pressing his forehead to hers. “Slow down, or it will be done before I’ve even got you off,” he breathes, pecking her lips lightly between words.

“I’m ready, Rome,” she groans. “I just need you inside me.”

He kisses her aggressively then, the words too much for him to bare. However, he pulls back quickly, removing his hand from her, before taking a hold of her hips to help steer her to him, as she pushes up to levitate over him before she guides him into her. They both groan loudly, their eyes tightly closed as the sensation of filling and being filled, of coming home, overwhelms them.

“Yes,” he hisses as he starts trying to push up into her. He feels her gyrating her hips in circles as he follows her lead again, just happy to be buried in her.

“Fuck, I missed this,” she breathes, her forehead falling temporarily to his shoulder as she kisses her way back up his neck to his pulse point before biting there.

“I did, too. My fucking god, you’re so hot. Fucking everything,” he grits out as his hips start pumping up into her under their own volition. She follows his rhythm this time; rising and falling above him, slamming back down onto him as he thrusts up into her for a few minutes. She becomes easily tired, the chase for her release inhibited by her ability to last in this position, resorting back to gyrating around him as he is buried within her.

He can tell she’s tired; can tell that in this position she ends up doing most of the work and how tiring that can be.

“I’m out of practice,” she laughs, pecking his lips hard. “Need to work on my squats when I’m next at the gym.”

“Here,” he offers, standing up, still inside her as she squeals, actually squeals, wrapping her legs around him, as he perches her on the edge of the table.

“Roman. Fuck. A little warning. You shouldn’t be lifting me. I’m too heavy,” she laughs as he slides further into her, silencing her as her eyes flutter closed.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he breathes with a smirk, kissing her again before pulling out almost completely and ramming back into her.

“Fuck, Rome,” she shouts loudly, her legs tightening around him as her hands find its way to his chest whilst he lays her back further on the table, changing their angle, perching his hands on the hard wood on either side of her head. He ramps up his thrusts, pushing into her as she responds grunting, that spot within her now being hit perfectly.

She runs her hands up his sides under arms, pulling his t-shirt up with her strokes, her nails now scraping across the skin of his back, as he jerks into her hard. She tries to keep her hips grounded so he can have more leverage, one of his hands now moving under her thigh so he can pull it up higher as he pumps into her harder.

“Fuck Gerri,” he groans loudly, leaning down to give her a brief, hard kiss as she takes the absolute delicious pounding he is giving her.

“Yes, baby. Yes. I’m almost there. Keep going,” she encourages, moving her hands down to his hips to further pull him against her as he rhythmically moves within her.

“Oh my fuck, yes,” he grits out, sweat pouring down his head as he grits his teeth trying to keep up his tempo, her empty mug sharply moving across the table next to them with each trust. “Come for me, Gerri. Fuck,” he groans, trying to hold back, wanting to wait for her to fall.

She can feel herself teetering on the edge; the friction he is creating against her clit, the spot within her being teased making her ready to explode.

“Yes, Rome. Yes,” she screams, as finally she falls over the edge, his pumping becoming wilder as he feels her muscles clenching around him. He explodes within her, falling over her as his thrusts become more irregular, her thighs tightening around him, her nails buried into his lower back as the euphoria overtakes them.

“Fuck,” he groans into her bare shoulder, as he continues to twitch within her, her legs slackening around him, the cold wood on her back pressing through her thin shirt now more prominent as his warm body surrounds her.

She’s panting raggedly, her hands languidly stroking his back as he begins pecking her neck trying to steady his own breaths, his once desperate grasp on her thigh gentler now as he pulls back.

“Thank fuck this table is sturdy,” she chuckles, leaning up to kiss his lips.

“I know. Surprised I didn’t batter the table top clean off. The mug had a close call,” he smirks back as she looks above her head to the mug, seeing how far it had moved during their session, close to the edge, ready for plunging to its death, causing her to laugh.

He begins moving off her, pulling out, and fixing his pants before grabbing her hands to bring him with her.

“Exactly what I needed,” she smirks, sliding off the table, her legs still a little wobbly. He bends down to pick up her pants and underwear, handing them to her with a smile as he sits back down puffing and scuffing his hair up.

“You’re tellin’ me,” he laughs, hunching over to lean on his knees as she pulls her underwear on, fixing her bra back into place.

“I’m going to run to the bathroom. Be right back,” she smiles as he watches her walk away.

He feels like he’s let off a little steam, a little of his stress gone; but he’s worried still. He doesn’t know how his dad is going to take it. He can only imagine. He can’t think of anything that’s similar to it. As much as he had argued it last night, Connor and Willa were different. It had almost been a joke when they had happened; no one had taken it seriously, but that’s because no one took neither Connor nor Willa seriously. Whilst he would be treated the same, they definitely took Gerri seriously. But his dad has started looking at him differently; had proven that by making him COO. As much as he judged his dad, he knows that he wants his approval; knows he would do anything to impress him and knows that all he wanted was for his dad to respect him. He knew that by telling him about Gerri that Logan wasn’t going to take him seriously anymore.

He’d made the comments in the past about Roman being fucked up both in general and sexually, so he knows he isn’t going to take it seriously in any way. He knows he’s going to be hit with instant judgement, and he knows that he often crumbles under that judgement. But he knows something else too. He knows he isn’t giving up Gerri. He knows that if there’s a choice to be made; it’s going to be Gerri. His dad was going to jail, wasn’t going to be around with his insults and judgement much longer. But despite that, he knows that he would choose Gerri over his dad any day. He knows that he would choose her over anyone. He knows she’s good for him, and he would give up anything for her and the feeling of being with her. That was no contest

He sits quietly, watching as she comes back into the room with a cute smile, watching her dress, watching her stand in his kitchen in just her underwear, her white blouse draped open around her; the simplest of things that makes him feel at peace.

“Wish we could just go to bed now instead. Have a nap,” he smiles as she does up the fastening of her pants.

She smiles down at him, bends to peck his lips gently.

“That would be nice, but I need to go catch up with Maddie and Charlotte. Maybe you should have one before you go see your dad. I did interrupt your sleep earlier after all,” she says lightly, buttoning up her shirt, and sliding her shoes on.

“What do you think he’s going to do? You know my dad. How’d you think he’s going to react?” He asks, his eyes wide with innocence.

She leans on the table, her fist pressing into the solid wood as she moves her jaw to the side thinking.

“I’m not sure, Rome. He has two ways of dealing with unwelcome news. Either shouting and balling and lashing out, or silent and calculating in his words. There’s no in between,” she reasons, biting the inside of her cheek as he bows his head puffing.

“What do you think he’s going to say?” He asks quietly as he looks back up to her.

“I think he’ll definitely think it’s a coup against him,” she nods, her spare hand pushing his hair back from his face.

“So, you think I should give him the same timeline we gave the board? Because Shiv, Ken, and Connor know it’s been going on since the yacht,” he looks up to her worriedly.

“I think you should definitely tell him the timeline we told the board. The likelihood is that he’s going to be on the phone to every board member immediately after you leave. If you tell him a different story, it could ruin our chances with them,” she reasons gently.

He nods slowly, looking beyond her to nothing in the distance as he tries to sort through what he’s going to say to him.

“You okay?” She says gently, pushing her fist off the table to stand closer to him, stroking through his hair. “What are you most afraid of?

“He’s going to be brutal,” Roman says after a pause, wrapping an arm around her waist, looking up to her through his eyelashes. “I can’t remember if I told you this before. But he made this comment once. Something like ‘just because you want to fuck your mother doesn’t mean I do’. Like I didn’t know what it meant at the time. Thought it was just a dick insult. But now I’m kind of afraid that he suspected there was something going on with me and you but I’m unsure.”

“When was that?” She asks quizzically.

“Just before I got shipped off to Scotland to see Eduard. The night Weissel had that interview and everyone was at his apartment,” he answers.

“Huh,” she pouts, thinking. “I don’t think he could have known anything. We hadn’t done anything by then. Unless he keeps tabs on your work phone since that’s what you used to call me on, but there was never anything in writing. And the only thing we did professionally was have the oppo research done on you. That’s not far-fetched,” she tries to think back. “Even if he did know, he would have done something about it by now,” she reasons.

“Yeah. It’s been like nearly a year since all that. Surely, he would have made a move by now if he knew something,” he looks up to her again for reassurance.

“I think so.”

“But even with that. The fuck your mother comment is already what’s going through his head so the insults are likely to come, and you know what I can be like around him, Gerri. I just cave,” he sighs, bowing his head again as she moves to sit on his knee again, whilst he instantly receives her, hugging her tightly.

“I know you have. That sometimes in the past you have just given into it. But I mean it Rome, if he starts any of it, just leave,” she tells him resolutely. “And you remember this, you’re not the person you were a year ago. You’re stronger than you think. You always have been but even more so now.”

“I’m weak,” he mumbles into her shoulder. “Fucking pathetic.”

“No. You’re not pathetic. You have had weaknesses, like everyone does, but you were never weak. You need to remember that the only reason you’ve always bowed down to his behaviour is because he’s a bully and has been your whole life. But you’re not weak, Rome. You have so much strength. And no matter what he says to you, don’t give into it. You just remember my voice. This voice right here,” she smiles wider, pulling his chin up to look at her, her blue eyes boring into his large brown eyes. “You remember what I’m telling you right now. You’re intelligent. You’re loved. You’re not worthless. The work you have done this year has surpassed the expectations of everyone and have been so impressive. You are absolutely loved and adored by me. And you are the furthest thing from worthless. You deserve everything in the world just as much as everyone else does. But you especially because you’re a kind, and sensitive, and thoughtful person with such a big heart. If he starts saying any of his shit, you just shut yourself down and repeat that in your head, and then you leave,” she tells him resolutely, almost harshly. “Don’t let his bullshit penetrate that great mind of yours. I love you for who you are. Not for who your dad thinks you should be. I don’t want a Logan Roy replica. Not one fucking person does. Remember that. He tells you to be things because he wants you to be like him. Do you want to be like him?”

“Fuck no,” he sighs. “But I’m like fucked up.”

“You’re not fucked up, honey,” she refutes, wrapping her arm tighter around his neck, settling her cheek bone onto his head again. “You’re your own person. You’ve had a lot of trauma, sure and just like your therapist said, you did a lot of toxic things to try and deal with that and be the person you thought you should be, but look at you now making much healthier choices and now are so much happier for it. You’re thriving now!” She pulls back again smiling at him as he looks up to her dotingly, whilst she strokes his jawline. “I’ve watched you flourish both personally and professionally. You need to understand that your dad may very well be jealous of that since he’s going to spend the rest of his life looking at four walls. And for the record, we are also not fucked up. We work. We’re good for each other. We love each other. Anyone who says that’s fucked up, doesn’t understand love and that’s a fact,” she reasons gently.

“You’re right,” he mumbles, moving back into her neck, taking in the smell of her perfume. “Everything is so much better now. I’m so fucking happy.”

“Me too, honey. Me too,” she sighs, moving to peck his head as they sit silently for a minute. 

“What would I do without you?” He asks moving his head away and looking up at her as she smiles in return.

“Be the world’s most wanted bachelor, marry a model, have children, an array of things,” she jokes quickly, trying to lighten the mood.

“And live a fucking miserable life,” he finishes her sentence, pecking her lips. “No life without you.”

“And a happy life we’re going to have. This is just a steppingstone, Rome. This chat with your dad will be over before it even begins, and I’m on the other side of a phone if you need me,” she smiles, pecking his lips back.

“Thank, Ger,” he smiles, hugging her tighter.

“Okay, I really need to go now. I need to go see the girls,” she groans getting up off his knee, grabbing her cardigan and slipping it on as he follows her into the living room.

“Were they angry?”

“No, they were surprisingly supportive. I think we’re going to have to stay in tonight if the media ends up swarming the apartment,” she sighs, picking up her coat and putting it on.

“It might not be bad. It was just a shitty little rumour,” he says moving over to the window, trying to look down to the front door. “Want me to phone down to Al and ask if it’s bad here? I can’t see anything from up here.”

“No, it’s okay,” she says, typing on her phone. “I’ve got a car to come to the carpark, so I’ll avoid it if there is. I will see what my apartment is like when I get there. Will maybe take the back entrance in.”

“All right. Be careful though. Did you have plans you had to cancel tonight?”

“We were going to go to a restaurant, but I think that might be a bad idea,” she shrugs, picking up her purse. “Will just eat in I suppose.”

“Why don’t you go see a show or something instead? Gets you out and you won’t be swarmed? No one will know you’re going.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” she determines, walking towards the door as he follows her.

“If you have trouble getting tickets let me know. I can call a few people,” he tells her, scratching the back of his head, a little nervous that she’s leaving.

“I will,” she smiles, turning around when she’s reached the door.

“When will I see you then? Still Monday?” He asks nervously, it feels like too long away.

“Yeah, the girls are leaving in the evening. I will tell them tonight that we might have the interview then though,” she huffs, rubbing her forehead.

“Do you want to just come here for Monday then? Bring some of your shit and just camp out here since the media’s just going to get worse and worse as the week goes on? I can send someone over to help you bring some shit if you want?” He asks reticently, looking down at his bare feet on the tiles.

“Yeah. That’s probably a better idea. Depending on whether this interview happens, I’ll maybe grab dinner with them and then come over after with some of my shit as you put it,” she laughs, leaning in to peck his lips.

“Great,” he grins, trailing his hand around her waist.

“Great,” she smiles gently as her nose brushes his before she pulls away, running her hand down his arm to take his hand. “Good luck tonight. It’s going to be fine. Call me if you need anything. Even if I go to the theatre, I’ll keep my phone in my hand, so I’ll be able to hear it. And call me tonight to let me know how it goes.”

“Obviously,” he smiles, keeping hold of her hand as she moves to open the door, just stopping short. “Let me know if you need those tickets.”

“I will. And thank you for a wonderful fuck,” she smirks, before opening the door up.

“The pleasure was all mine,” he grins, still holding her hand as she moves out of the door.

“Bye, honey,” she says lightly over her shoulder, letting go of his hand and walking down the corridor.

“Bye, babe,” he says closing the door behind her, slamming his forehead into the wood with a huge sigh.

****

He’s in the lift on his way up to Logan’s apartment.

He can feel anxiety in his stomach rising, a foreboding feeling eating him up.

He has no idea what’s in for him, but he’d spent the afternoon lying in bed after she had left trying to take a well-deserved nap. However, sleep had never came; his mind too busy reeling. He had tried to psyche himself up; repeating everything she had told him earlier, thinking of his own arguments for the whole thing, remembering how cutthroat he had been about it with Ken, Shiv, and Connor. He had nothing to defend. He was happy and that was it.

He steps out into the huge foyer, noting how dark and drafty it is. He looks around for any sign of life; straining to look at the room ahead, for any sign of his dad’s butler who he only knew as Jeeve’s, in his penguin suit for the usual welcome, for any sign of him or his pop anywhere.

But there was nothing. 

“Hello?” He shouts nonchalantly, his footsteps echoing against the hardwood floors. “Pop? Jeeves?”

He feels like something isn’t right. Like he’s being set up.

He shouts again, doesn’t hear anything over his continued echoes for his dad now, having continued into the living room towards the huge doors leading to the study.

He moves in slower, taking small steps, looking around him, wondering why the rooms were so fucking dark, only dim lamps illuminating them.

He finally sees him sitting there on the couch quietly, a scotch in hand, the news blaring across the room.

“Hey pop,” he greets him, plonking himself on an armchair next to where Logan was perched on one of the two couches facing each other.

Logan doesn’t say a word. Merely huffs and takes a sip of his drink, swallowing slowly and staring at the television.

He knows this isn’t good. He’s been called here for a battle. He can feel it.

“How you doin’? Watcha watching?” He asks lightly, sifting uncomfortably in the chair, crossing his legs over as he looks at the ATN headlines flickering across the bottom of the screen.

“Oh, I’m fine. Just watching the news,” Logan finally pipes up, picking up the remote control and turning the volume down. “The question is, how are _you_ doing?” Logan directs at him, turning to look at him for the first time, both of them locking eyes as Roman squirms further into the chair.

“Me?” Roman says, trying to bide some time, standing abruptly and moving to the drinks cart. “I’m fine. Couldn’t be better. Had a busy day. You know, trying to sift through emails and I had a conference call with LA. They’re just finalising the streaming platform. Looking like it’s going to be able to go live in June. We’re looking at hyping up the marketing for it. Got a good few studios on board so it’s looking pretty good,” he finishes awkwardly after quickly firing all the information at Logan who sits quietly watching him.

Roman looks around to him, taking a sip of the huge scotch he just poured himself, moving to sit on the couch opposite from Logan trying to create some distance.

“What about you, pop? How you doin’?” He coughs uncomfortably, perching his foot up onto his knee, settling into the sofa trying to look as casual as possible.

“Me? Oh, I’m fucking great,” his dad offers sarcastically. “Going to the big house in two days. Got a now soon to be ex-wife filing for divorce. But I have to say, the cherry on the cake was the news story that hit today, son,” he smirks, his eyes narrowing.

Roman can feel himself hitting peak nervousness, the urge to flight instead of fight now overwhelming.

“Oh, yeah?” Is all he can manage.

“Yeah,” Logan nods nonchalantly, pouting. “Imagine my surprise when I found out that my son is supposedly fucking my interim-CEO. Any truth to that Romulus?”

Just the use of that name was fucking triggering.

“Well,” Roman starts, pausing momentarily, looking down at his nails scraping against the denim of his thigh. “You see –”

“So, it is true?” Logan confirms. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he sighs disappointed.

“Pop,” Roman drops his leg quickly, leaning forward in his seat. “It’s not like that. It’s just—”

“It’s just that you’re fucking Gerri,” Logan groans in disgust. “Gerri? What the fuck?” He shouts loudly.

“No,” Roman manages, taking another huge gulp of his drink as Logan looks to him expectantly. “We’re not fucking. We’re in a relationship. A long term one.”

“A fucking relationship?” He belittles. “Fuck off,” he laughs mockingly.

“No, dad. It’s real. I swear. We just like bonded since we had to work like more together and we were in Hawaii and with the accident and all we got, just, even closer. And then with everything else that’s been going on… It’s been a stressful year, ya know?”

“Do I know? Yes, I fucking now!” He shouts abruptly. “I’ve been going through a pretty fucking stressful one myself and now I’ve got this bullshit on top of it.”

“It’s not bullshit, dad,” Roman provides weakly. “It’s real.”

“It’s real?” He jeers again with a hearty laugh. “Did she fucking put you up to this?” He asks seething, his tone completely changing to one that Roman associate with danger.

“No, she didn—”

“She did, didn’t she? Scheming fucking bitch,” Logan mutters. “Always been fucking power hungry. Too big for her fucking boots. One of the first woman General Counsels and even that wasn’t fucking enough. It’s always been in her. I should have seen it fucking coming,” Logan fumes, bringing his scotch up to his lips as he stares at the television, whilst Roman’s brow furrows.

“Don’t fucking say that about her—”

“And you! You fucking moron. Always thinking with your dick. No fucking brain in your head. What did she do? Stroke your head and tell you it’s all going to be okay,” he mocks with a light voice. “Or did she just stroke your dick. Was that all it took?” He reverts back to his angry tone.

“It’s not fucking like that,” Roman protests frustrated, his temper rising with each insult. “She’s not fucking like that.”

“You don’t fucking know her, my boy. You want her to be what you want. You don’t know her like I know her,” Logan bites again, shaking his head.

“I know her more than you’ll ever fucking know her,” Roman defends.

“Oh yeah? Her own fucking husband thought she was a conniving bitch. Cheated on her at every chance he got. She wasn’t putting out for him, so I’m shocked she is for you,” he sneers, laughing a little.

“What’d you mean Baird thought she was a conniving bitch?” He asks confused.

Gerri had always made out her relationship with Baird was solid apart from the cheating, but she said that was just physicality, just one aspect of a relationship. She forgave him for it.

“Oh, he bitched about her all the time. How she was fucking insufferable. She never listened to a word he fucking said; thought she was always fucking right. The usual fucking know it all. Why’d you think he took up a fucking mistress? Why’d you think he retired?”

“So he could get more time with his kids and the woman on the side,” Roman answers.

That’s what Gerri had told him.

“So he could actually have a happy fucking life, Romulus. So he could have a woman who doted on him like Gerri should have. She was always in it to get ahead. Had treated him like a king in the beginning and then when she got what she wanted she stopped being a fucking wife. It was no fucking skin off my back. She only gave a fuck about her work. Neglected her own kids. What fucking mother can neglect her kids? One of the only reasons I took her as General Counsel was because she was so devoted to her work. It went in my favour. She was intelligent, got us out of a lot of trouble, was attractive enough to turn the heads of a lot of the shareholders. She seemed like an asset.”

“And she has been a fucking asset,” he argues.

“Until she decided to fuck me over!” Logan shouts angrily. “This is a fucking ploy against me, Romulus, and you’re her fucking pawn.”

“I’m not a fucking pawn. She loves me!” Roman argues venomously.

“Aww, is that what she tells you?” Logan mocks in a sarcastic tone. “Does she fuck you, then tell you all the nice things you wished your mommy told you when you were a baby boy,” he sneers. “Always did want to fuck your mother, you fucked up little prick,” he fires brutally.

He’s had enough. He wasn’t going to take this. He didn’t have to. Gerri was right. He had to walk away.

“Fuck this,” Roman stands up, draining his drink.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Logan shouts.

“You’re not going to listen to anything I have to say so I’m leaving,” Roman declares, storming over to the drinks cart and slamming down his empty glass.

“You’re going to sit the fuck down and listen!” Logan roars angrily, his voice echoing in the large room, his face like thunder, staring at Roman.

Roman for the first time in his dad’s presence feels defiant, doesn’t want to do what he’s told, doesn’t want to play this power game.

However, his father’s voice is just as terrifying as it was when he was five years old, so he remains still, simply doesn’t move as his father pushes up out of his chair.

He can feel a war within himself. This new unexpected angry fighter against the small kid who wants to run and hide.

“She doesn’t love you,” Logan tells him simply. “She’s twenty odd years older than you. She’s a manipulative fucking bitch who’s simply spreading her legs to get the top job and make it secure enough that she can’t be kicked out of it. You’re going to be dropped as soon as she has it.”

“Don’t fucking talk about her like that! She’s not going to fucking drop me. You don’t fucking know anything,” Roman raises his voice loudly, squeezing his eyes shut as his anger increases at each insult he throws, the turmoil within him rising.

“I’ll talk about her however the fuck I want to talk about her. Because she’s a scheming, controlling cunt. She doesn’t want you,” Logan presses, moving closer to him.

Roman thinks, as he squeezes his eyes closed.

Gerri wouldn’t just drop him. She wouldn’t do that to him.

He tries to think of what she had told him this afternoon, trying to compare it to what his dad has just told him.

It’s not true.

She loves him. He’s not stupid. He’s not worthless. He’s not fucked up. He’s strong. He’s thriving. He’s acting healthier. He’s happy. They’re happy. They’re solid. They’re good for each other. His dad is jealous and doesn’t understand love.

“I don’t need to justify this to you,” he blurts out, his fists clenched as his dad laughs heartily.

“She’s got you good, doesn’t she? Why the fuck would a woman in her 60’s want a pathetic fucking moron like you if she didn’t need to obtain power? Use your fucking common sense for once! She could have any guy she wants with just as much money as you. Could have any fucking billionaire. Could have had fucking Edwin Grantham if she had wanted him. Why would she choose you above them all?” Logan sneers walking towards him slowly, as Roman wonders how the fuck he even knew anything about Edwin Grantham. “It’s not your fault that she’s trapped you in her web. She’s a master at it. She preys on the weak, finds their shortcomings, and soothes them so they trust her before she slaughters them. I’ve watched her do it for years. It’s what makes her a master in her field. It’s what’s kept her in a job. You’re just her latest victim.”

 _Leave if he starts that shit. Just say your peace and leave._ He hears her voice repeating in his head.

“You’re fucking wrong!” Roman shouts defiantly. “And I’m not listening to this shit anymore. Bottom line is that I love her, and she loves me. That’s not going to change and I’m not going to give her up. If that means giving up fucking this,” he moves his hands around randomly between them, Logan only a few feet away from him, “then so be it. I choose her.”

Logan looks slightly taken aback, his eyes turning completely livid, his face contorting furiously.

“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to you pathetic, fucked up little nothing?” Logan explodes at the top of his lungs. “Who do you think you’re fucking talking to, eh? One of your moronic little fucking pals?”

Roman remains silent, panting rapidly as he stares his dad out, his own anger peaking.

“No, I’m talking to you,” Roman says back simply. “And I have nothing left to say,” he gives honestly, moving to walk past him.

However, Logan has other ideas, his lack of control taking over him as he grasps Romans arm with his hand as he passes.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” He pulls him back, Logan’s stature no match for Roman’s, “we’re not fucking finished here.”

“Yeah, I think we are,” Roman says fiercely, looking into Logan’s fiery eyes. “I’m going to her bed, is that what you want to hear?” He retorts back quickly, as Logan lifts his shovel like hand and draws his palm hard off Roman’s face, the clap echoing throughout the room.

Roman feels sparkled as the blow throws him back a little, Logan’s hand still gripping his wrist, pulling him back for another go.

“Don’t you ever,” Logan booms, bringing his hand into the air and smacking downward onto Roman’s face again, as Roman doubles over, “speak to me,” Logan lifts his hand back up and strikes another blow to the back of Roman’s head, “like that again,” he offers a final hit, as Roman attempts to curl his body away from his dad so his back can receive some of the impact.

Roman finds himself on his knees, dazed with his eyes tightly shut, curled up, his dad having thrown his wrist back to him. The only sounds in the room are the loud panting from his father towering above him and the light muttering from the news.

He waits for another blow, another anything from his father, but it doesn’t come.

“You ungrateful disrespectful little fucking nobody. Haven’t I given you fucking everything? Huh?” Logan shouts loudly hunched over Roman’s coiled frame as Roman chances opening his eyes, his left one that bore part of the brunt of the first blow searing in pain; already swelling shut. He looks down at the carpet, noting the drips of blood as he sees Logan’s feet finally walk away from him.

He wishes this was the first time. Wishes he can say his father was acting out of character. But there was Argestes. There was when he was beaten with the slipper in Gstaad. When he ran away from military school. Too many fucking times to name them all. Every time there was barely an apology. A pathetic excuse. And he realises it would just keep happening. Then he remembers his father’s going to jail. That there wouldn’t be a next time. That for the first time, he’s happy his dad is going to jail. And it emboldens him a little.

“You’re a nobody without me! Have nothing without me! I gave you everything and yet all you show me is complete fucking disrespect. You deserve it. Deserve everything you fucking get. Run back to her! See where it fucking gets you but don’t come crying back to me!” He hears Logan ranting as he raises his head a little and watches him walk to the drinks cart. He takes it as his opportunity to stand, wincing as the pain in his eye, across his cheek, in his burst lip, across the side and back of his head remains overwhelming.

He presses his finger to his lip and looks down to see his finger become crimson when he’s on his feet. For the first time in his life he looks up to his dad, stands up tall and faces him head on.

He’s loved. He’s not worthless. He doesn’t want to be what his dad wants him to be. He doesn’t want to be his dad. For the first time in his life, he’s thankful that he’s nothing like what his dad wants. Because who the fuck would want to be like him.

“Look at you. Here. Alone. No one around you,” Roman states boldly as his father looks around to him astounded. “You’re the one who’s pathetic and you’re more to be pitied,” Roman says taking a deep breath as Logan stands rooted to the spot, his face changing to a smug grin. “I hope it was all worth it. Enjoy your jail time. You’ll never hear from me again,” Roman says finally, turning abruptly and walking out of the room.

“Romulus!” Roman hears behind him as he strides quickly out of the room, afraid of the repercussions of his words, pressing his finger to his blood running lip again. “Roman!” He hears roaring behind him in the distance as he pushes the fire escape open, running down the stairway as fast as his legs can take him.

He needs to get away, far away from his dad.

He blasts out of the exit onto the sidewalk, the freezing cold air hitting him, wincing as it brushes across the cut on his lip, as he manically looks from one side to the other, trying to figure out where to go.

He begins running, putting as much distance between himself and his dad’s apartment.

There’s no destination, just a straight line run as far south as his legs can take him.

He’d been running for fifteen minutes when he finally sees a dark lane and ducks into it quickly, doubling over as he pants erratically for a few minutes, before he stands up and presses the back of his throbbing head into the stone wall behind him.

And he feels it, for the first time in his life.

Freedom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I hope this didn't trigger anyone in any way. I've never been a victim of physical abuse, though emotional abuse has been pretty rife. If it's upset anyone or anyone just wants a chat you can catch me on on tumblr @lucylovesmemore. My inbox is completely open.  
> 2\. I really wanted to give Roman his moment of redemption for all the years he was at the hands of Logan's abuse. Writing Roman in this chapter was such a hard thing to do. Trying to get that balance between the growth he has made whilst those underlying feelings of toxic loyalty to his dad remained was hard to portray. Also, I wanted to try a different take on how Roman would handle Logan. I like to think that with months of improving his behaviour and thought processes, he's stronger enough defend his own choices. A mix between hs anger towards defending Gerri and his gradual change in his thoughts of himself as not being a worthless human being is what I wanted to depict as the reasoning for his final ability to finally stand up for himself. I really wanted to show Roman as a grown person with the right positive energy around him. It's just my take anyway. 
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed it!


	5. Paranoid?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning - Abuse

There had thankfully been no press around her apartment; the article seemingly too vague to warrant any comment.

Karolina had messaged her confirming that some media outlets had reached out to her through Waystar for comment; the decision to ignore it obvious. The good news had been Laura moving up the interview to Tuesday afternoon, directly after their meeting with the heads of departments, with the promise of the exclusive interview being published Wednesday morning; probably _just_ enough time to get away with having no comment.

They had all decided to go ahead with an earlier dinner, the option of going to see a Broadway show also too tempting to pass up. They ended up seeing _Company_ ; Charlotte having raved about its success on the West End stage, Roman having his connections able to get good seats for the four of them.

She had been glancing at her phone every ten minutes or so, though hiding it expertly to avoid a possible fiery calling out from Ms LuPone, the halting of the entire show so that she could be berated not an appealing notion with all the already existing unrest.

However, she had heard nothing from him.

She had been tempted to send a text during the interval, though trusted that he had told her he would give her a call when it was all over.

Halfway through the second act she had finally received a message.

**_Roman: Give me a call when you can_ **

It made her heart lurch, the thought that Logan knew now a bit unsettling, yet the relief that another hurdle had been cleared also appealing.

She enjoys the rest of the show in peace, knowing that he was at least safe enough to send a text message; her thoughts trying not to drift on exactly how Logan took it.

***

He can remember when he was seven years old, he had been fucking around with Ken in the ostentatious living room in the English manor, both of them pretending to be soldiers on either side of each arm of the couch, looking over the parapet and launching a pillow at one another whilst declaring their attack.

However, much to their fear it had of course went array.

Ken’s aim off, battering an antique stained-glass lamp instead of Roman’s head.

He’ll never forget how time seemed to slow down as he lunged to try and save it, diving into the air to grasp the plunging lamp, falling short and instead pummelling into the table it had just sat on.

The crash had been deafening; hundreds of tiny shards of white, orange, red, pink, blue, and green strewn over the hardwood floor and the large Persian rug.

He had held his hands tightly to his ears long after the noise had ceased, pressed up against the table legs which had scraped across the floor a couple of feet.

When he had taken his hands away from his ears, the sound that followed the crash was even more terrifying. The heavy footsteps of solid brogues battering across the hard wood floor, the vibrations of it thrumming underneath him as his anxiety elevated.

His breathing had ceased, his heart drumming loudly in his chest.

“What the fuck!” He had heard his father booming from across the room, his roaring voice reverberating off the walls. Roman had been obscured behind the couch; his eyes closed tightly as though it would perhaps hide him from his father’s wrath.

“Romulus!” He had heard his dad yell above him, his eyes finally open to take in Logan’s mammoth presence towering above him.

“It wasn’t me,” he had protested weakly, his voice high as he tried to point to Ken. “I didn’t do it!”

His dad had grabbed him by the neck of his shirt, pulling him up to his knees quickly, his light weight too easy to throw around, as Roman had tried to put all of his weight southward, hoping to somehow burrow into the ground as though it would save him.

He knew what was to come and he hadn’t wanted it to happen again.

“No, dad! It was me!”

“You’re right up against the fucking table, you moron. How else could it have happened?” His father had shouted, his fists tight around Roman’s shirt, the other now grasping his upper arm that was so thin his father could wrap his huge fingers the whole way around it and touch the tips against one another.

“Calm down, Logan,” he had heard his mother’s uninterested English lilt from across the room.

“Mom! I didn’t do it,” Roman had strained, trying to fight from his father’s grasp.

He should have known by then not to fight it. That wouldn’t come for another few years. That keeping quiet and playing dead was the best way to handle Logan’s impulsive rage.

He had finally looked around to Ken who had been sitting wide eyed and silent across the room, clearly too petrified to say anything; aware that it would be him in Roman’s shoes if he had admitted to anything.

He hated Ken in that moment. Hated that he hadn’t owned up to his fuck up. He doesn’t now though. Now he knows he would have done the same. He knows that under that fucking terrifying pressure that any of them would do anything to avoid being the one to get what only Roman seemed to be on the receiving end of.

His father had hit him right then. Hit him five or six times in front of Ken and his mom. Mainly on the backs of his thighs and his behind; each stroke furiously accompanied with impassioned spluttering in rhythm with his hits.

“You’ll”

Hit.

“Always”

Hit.

“Have”

Hit.

“To”

Hit.

“Learn”

Hit.

“The”

Hit.

“Hard”

Hit.

“Way”

Hit.

He’d underestimated. Eight. It had been eight times he had been hit in that moment.

He had been thrown to the ground after, Logan panting furiously towered above him as he cowered, taking the chance to peek up at him. Fear had been mixing with complete fury from the embarrassment of the whole thing as he had glanced at a horrified looking Ken.

He had begun breathing deeply himself, his temper skyrocketing at the injustice of it all.

“I hate you!” He had shouted angrily, still lying across the floor, his behind and thighs burning.

It had been the first time he had answered back. Though professing innocence was not new, it had been the first time he had tried to stand up to his dad.

He had watched as his father’s eyes widened, so incensed in a way he had never seen before. He was sure his father’s face had turned purple with fury as he had lunged towards him. However, Roman had panicked, quickly trying to scuttle away, crawling under the table away from him as his dad had grabbed his foot trying to pull him back, swiping at his legs a few times more.

“Come here you, disobedient little shite,” he had growled as Roman had tried to kick him off, his shoe coming off in his dad’s hands being his only saving grace as he had stumbled to his feet.

“Romulus, you come back here NOW,” was all he heard booming behind him as he had sprinted past his mother, his run uneven with one shoe on and one off.

He doesn’t even remember feeling the pain of his father’s hit at that point, only the sound of his own ragged breathing coming to memory as his eyes darted for an escape; had decided to sprint towards the grand staircase instead of outside.

A rookie fucking mistake.

However, the strongest memory from the whole scenario was the overwhelming panic that had risen when he had heard his fathering quickening footsteps behind him.

He had looked behind him, seeing his father almost running after him, Caroline and Ken close on his tail.

“Just let him go,” Caroline had huffed as though bored with the whole situation.

“I’m going to teach that little fucker a lesson he’ll never forget!” He had heard his dad shouting as he had taken the steps two at a time.

He had been chased the whole way through the West Wing, darting around corridors until he finally decided to take refuge in a bathroom, locking himself inside.

“Romulus! You open this door right now!” He had heard his dad pounding on the hard wood, the noise alongside his dad’s terrifying voice echoing in the tiled bathroom as he had cowered up against the opposite wall, looking around to the window to try to figure out if he could climb out and shimmy down in escape.

He had felt his father slamming his whole-body weight against the door, the pathetic screws holding the lock mechanism in place progressively becoming looser from the wall as his father’s heavy weight against the door had jolted his whole body alarmingly with each thud.

He knew what was going to come though he knew even then that it was going to be worse than any of the previous times. So, he had chosen to surrender; had just bent down, curled himself into a ball sitting on the floor, waiting for the inevitable when Logan had barged into the room the lock mechanism flying and skiting across the tiles before him. He grasped Roman by the arm and pulled him out of the bathroom towards his room as he screamed in protest.

But there was no Caroline present. No Ken. No Shiv. No Moira, his Scottish au pair. No witnesses.

He had received the hiding of his life.

One of the few times that Moira had shown him some sympathy as she had pressed cool compresses on him that evening, put him in a cool bath, rubbed his welts with Sudocrem; had even stroked his head until he had fallen to sleep.

“You silly boy. Don’t answer back,” he remembers Moira admonishing him at one point. A warning he should have heeded earlier. A warning he apparently did learn the hard way. A warning that he had abided by now for the past twenty-odd years.

Yet he had had a few slip ups, a few beatings here and there.

He had never done so deliberately until today.

And yet, here he was, doubled over in a lane, feeling like an seven-year-old again, on the run, petrified he was going to be caught again and what the consequences of that capture would be.

Apart from this time, he was thirty-nine and instead of a mansion it was the whole of Manhattan.

He didn’t know where to hide this time.

Doesn’t feel safe enough to go to his apartment; it would be the first place his dad would look for him.

So, he ends up walking further south, decides to duck into a Starbucks, nervously ordering a Frappuccino, trying to obscure his face by looking down the whole time as the barista frowns noticing his swollen eye and cheekbone.

He had yet to see his face; it must have been bad from the girl’s reaction.

He slinks in his seat at the back of the store, keeps his head down and looks down at his phone again as he sees no notifications.

The first thing he does is to turn on his camera on and assess the damage. It looks worse than it feels but maybe he’s just used to the sight by now.

He hates Fraps, only bought one so he could press it to his cheekbone and lip for some relief as he tried to figure out what to do.

He thinks of calling Gerri as his first point of trying to figure this out, but he knows she’s at the show. He doesn’t want to ruin her night after the afternoon with her kids was already spoiled; sends a text message instead for her to call him when she has the chance.

He can’t imagine how she’s going to react. She had warned him; had been nervous about him going himself and she had been right to be reticent even though he had brushed off her worries. He hopes she won’t be mad at him; that he will be able to explain that he did try to leave.

But he tries not to think about it. Decides not to think about anything as his leg bounces under the table, his heart rate sky rocketing; discarding the coffee as it makes no fucking different to his pain.

So, he simply sits there, looks at the people coming in and out of the store instead so he doesn’t have to think of his own pathetic situation.

He watches a couple in their late 20’s, he would say, on a date. He notes the nervousness of the guy, trying to impress this girl who simply smiles and holds her mug close trying to extract the heat from it.

He sees an older woman in a business suit next, angrily ordering her coffee in between shouting down the phone at what he can only gather is her assistant, then telling the barista three times to make sure it was soy because she has allergies. He determines she’s a fucking bitch.

He observes an old couple after, the older man clinging to his wife’s arm to keep himself upright as she helps him to a nearby chair before going to order their coffees. He hears the man panting next to him, unwrapping the scarf from around his neck to try and catch a breath.

Roman listens to their conversation; realises they’re tourists from Georgia. Her first time in New York City but not his; as he tells her his memories of the places he had been here and where he thinks aren’t worth going back to. He finds it endearing, watching as she organises his medication for him, engrossed in their to and fro, how they quip with one another and flirt shamelessly; even though as they are easily in their late 70’s and this guy would definitely get high blood pressure from a peck on the lips.

But it’s soothing. Distracting.

He examines this clearly struggling couple, on a last hurrah to strike something off their bucket list; sees the beauty in it. Something he never thought he would. Their love pure, her care for him clear, his graciousness to her evident, their partnership obvious, and it brings him some momentary peace and a small smile to his face.

But then they’re gone and he’s sad again.

Finds it hard to observe someone else who brought the same endearing feeling; the thoughts of his own issues flooding back.

****

They are coming out of the theatre, broad smiles over all their faces; Charlotte more hyper than them all.

“Well that was a nice way to end an evening,” Gerri smiles as they walk along the sidewalk, trying to find a place to stop so they can get their bearings.

“My night isn’t over,” Charlotte scoffs as they stop at the side of the theatre, huddled against the wall.

“Why? Where are you going?” Maddie asks sceptically, her arm linked through Ryan’s, as Gerri herself raises an eyebrow.

“I’m going out with friends,” Charlotte offers vaguely. “Yeah, I won’t be home tonight, mom,” she directs to Gerri. “I’m going to stay with a friend.”

“Don’t you have a boyfriend?” Maddie judges, as Gerri and Ryan simply observe.

“Yeah. What does that have to do with it? I said a _friend_. Don’t jump to sordid conclusions, Madeline,” Charlotte quips in a voice which Gerri thinks is actually an impersonation of her, whilst Maddie scowls.

“Well, we’re going to go back to the hotel,” Maddie declares huffing.

“Yeah, I’m beat!” Ryan agrees.

“All right, well, I’ll see you tomorrow. Lunch will probably be at around two by the time everything is ready,” Gerri leans over to peck Maddie’s cheek before moving onto Ryan.

“We’ll be up earlier than that,” Ryan smiles as he kisses her cheek. “Thanks for the great night. Patti LuPone. Geez. Now I get what I was missing,” he laughs lightly.

“Well don’t thank me. It was Roman who got the tickets,” Gerri smiles, actually relieved that she doesn’t have to hide his existence in front of them anymore.

“Well, thank Roman,” Charlotte giggles, as Maddie rolls her eyes beginning to walk away on Ryan’s arm.

“See you tomorrow!” Maddie shouts as they wave goodbye.

“And you,” Gerri directs to Charlotte, her hands stiff her pocket. “Don’t go out partying all night, arriving to lunch like a burst balloon tomorrow. Make sure you get home early enough to get yourself together and help me out.”

“Yes, Madam CEO. Anything else?” Charlotte challenges with a smirk, sidling up to her side mockingly fluttering her eyelashes.

“Be safe. Call if you need anything,” Gerri warns again a little softer this time, a small smile gracing her lips.

Charlotte offers a kiss on the cheek and a giggle before responding.

“I will,” she offers walking towards the sidewalk with a smile, holding her arm out for a cab.

“I mean it, Charlotte!” Gerri shouts over the people walking between them.

“I heard you!”

“Do you have your key?”

“Yes! Night mom!” Charlotte shouts as a cab stops in front of her before getting in.

Gerri shakes her head, pulling her phone out of her pocket finally, looking down at the unopened message from him sent over an hour ago.

She moves to his contact instead to call him as she walks to the sidewalk herself, holding her hand out to hail a cab.

It rings four times before he answers, the cab halting in front of her as it does.

“Hello,” Roman says on the other end of the phone.

“Hey,” she offers lightly as she opens the door. “Sorry, that’s me just out of the theatre,” she tells him, before asking him to hold on and telling the driver where to go. “How are you? How’d it go?”

“Uhm…,” he hesitates, looking around to the Starbucks before squeezing his eyes shut, wincing as the swollen one sears with pain. “Not great. Really fucking bad actually.”

“What? Why? What happened?” Gerri frowns, her chest pumping as she hears a loud grinding noise in the background down the phone; Roman himself wincing at the loud crunching of coffee beans, lifting a hand to his other ear so he can hear her.

“What?” He almost shouts down the phone.

“Where are you?”

“In a Starbucks,” he shouts back, the grinding finally dissipating as his shoulders relax and his hand falls from his ear.

“Why aren’t you at your apartment?” She asks confused, being jostled in the back of the cab.

“I can’t go back to my apartment,” he sighs, closing his eyes, no idea why he’s delaying the inevitable.

“Roman,” she states deadpan, closing her eyes to concentrate on the answer she hopes he’s about to give. “What happened?”

She hears the rush of a deep breath come from him.

“He hit me, Gerri,” Roman whispers, aware of the proximity of the people around him.

“What?” She breathes, the wind knocked out of her.

This is what she had feared. What she had hoped was simply a figment of her nightmares. She should have known it would be a reality.

“A few times,” he further confirms, looking for anything to say.

She’s silent then, her eyes tightly closed, her lips tight shut, as she tries to hold in her tears whilst her heart surges.

“Gerri?” He says quietly, his voice so innocent.

“What Starbucks?” She asks abruptly.

“What?” He asks confused.

“What Starbucks are you in? I’m coming to get you,” she asks quickly, wiping stray tears from her cheeks, as she watches the cab driver turn his head slightly to the side.

“You don’t have to, Gerri. I didn’t tell you so you could come get me. Enjoy your night with Maddie and Charlotte. I’m just trying to figure out my next move. Fuck. Sorry. I shouldn’t have told you,” Roman buries his fist in his hair, sighing regretfully.

“Of course, you should have told me!” She shouts. “Maddie and Ryan are back in their hotel. Charlotte is out with her friends. I was just going back to my apartment anyway,” she tells him quickly. “Now, what fucking Starbucks?” She reiterates angrily, her tone letting him know that this was not up for question.

He looks up, trying to strain to look out the window.

He has no idea what fucking Starbucks he’s in. He hadn’t even noticed where he was when he had walked in.

“Uhm… I don’t know. Hold on a second,” he offers anxiously, before taking the phone from his ear and looking on it at his Maps for an idea of his location.

Next to the Empire State Building? How the fuck had he not seen _that_?

“Uhm… the corner of East 35th and 5th Avenue,” he offers when he’s brings the phone back up to his ear.

“Okay. Sorry! Change of plan! I need to go to Starbucks on the corner of East 35th and 5th Avenue,” Gerri directs to the driver who simply nods in understanding. “Roman. You stay there and stay on the line with me.”

“Gerri, it’s not that bad,” he winces as he quirks his lip to the side, scratching the back of his head.

“Not that fucking bad?” Gerri scoffs. “I’ll fucking kill him,” she fires angrily, her chest heaving.

“Calm down. It’s okay,” he tries to soothe quietly. “It’s okay.”

She squeezes her eyes shut, bites her inner lip to try and hold in the fury that’s building up within her, as he simply sits silently waiting for her to say something.

She had to be strong; had to offer him support.

“Are you okay?” She asks, her voice cracking.

“Yeah. My eyes a bit swollen but it’s okay,” he tries to play down, not wanting to freak her out anymore.

“What happened?” She asks exasperated.

“I tried to leave, Gerri. I promise I tried to leave. I –,” he offers quickly, his voice cracking, nothing else coming out as the emotion builds up within him.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay, honey. It’s all right. I’ll be there soon,” she tells him gently, looking out the window for some indication of how far away they are, just turning onto Fifth Avenue from West 40th. “Just five minutes. I’m nearly there.”

****

She hangs up the phone as she swings the Starbucks glass door open; her eyes scanning the area until she sees his crumpled form in the back corner, his head hidden in his hands, his back hunched over.

She storms towards him until he lifts his head at the sound of her quick footsteps.

She hesitates immediately, slowing down her march as he looks at her expectantly, a small smile forming on his burst lips, his eyes so pure as he offers a small wave. His swollen face is obvious, his blood shot eyeball surrounded by its inflated blackening cheek, his cheek red, his burst lips followed with a dry trail of dried blood down his chin.

“Oh my god,” she breathes as she gets closer to him.

“It’s okay. I’m okay. It’s not as bad as it looks,” he tries to reassure gently, holding his hands up to her with soft eyes.

“What did he do?” She asks pulling out the seat in front of him, searching his face for any other injuries.

Roman looks around, aware of the eyes on them.

“Come on. Let’s get out of here,” he instructs standing as he walks past her, taking her hand in the process so she can follow him, his head still bowed as he walks out.

The fresh air hits him like a ton of bricks, stinging his lip a little, the cold is sharp against his dodgy eye. He recovers quickly, looking north and then south, deciding to start walking south to get even further away from his dads.

“We need to tend to this,” she fusses as he pulls her by the hand down the sidewalk, her eyes not leaving his wounds. “You need ice for the swelling, and something for your lip or it’s going to get infected. We should go back to your apartment. You have a kit there, right?”

“Are you crazy? We can’t go there,” he says resolutely, quickening his pace.

She doesn’t understand why; her brow furrowing as she tries to match his strides, his hand squeezing hers hard.

“Why not?”

“That’s the first place he’ll look for me,” he tells her obviously as he stops at the cross walk, scanning for an opening to move across it.

“He’s looking for you?” She asks concerned, observing his skittish movements; his anxiety clearly hitting peak.

“Of course, he’ll be looking for me,” he says obviously, pulling her to move across the street.

She feels like there’s more to this story than he’s letting on.

“Then what about my apartment? There’s no paparazzi there,” she plays along, watching as he looks straight ahead; a man on a mission.

“No way! I’m not putting you at risk. That’s the second place he’ll look for me and there’s no way I’m putting you in the firing line. He’s not going to hurt you too,” Roman explains to her panicked.

Why did he think she was in danger too?

“Rome,” she scoffs awkwardly. “He’s not going to hurt me.”

“You don’t know that, Gerri,” he refutes angrily. “I know what he’s like. He’s a fucking maniac,” he begins walking even faster, Gerri struggling to keep up.

“Rome, slow down. I can’t –,” she trails off as she tries to halt him pulling on his hand a little, slowing their strides down as he pants in front of her.

“I’m sorry,” he offers quietly with his head bowed, stopping resolutely as people around them moan.

“Don’t apologise,” she soothes. “What do you want to do then if we can’t go to our apartments?” She asks gently, looking at him expectantly.

“Can we just keep walking?” He asks quietly. “Just for a little bit. I just need to think.”

“Yeah, sure,” she tightens her hand around his.

They continue walking another eight blocks in silence, him clinging to her hand as if it were an oxygen tank giving him life, as he slowly becomes calmer.

They only stop when they’re approaching the Flatiron building, Gerri suggesting a short rest in the park nearby, taking refuge on a bench as he hunches forward leaning onto his knees when he’s settled, her hand stroking his back soothingly.

“I think I should just check into a hotel. Like a shitty one where he can’t find me. We should maybe get you security as well to make sure he can’t get into yours,” he reasons to the ground, as her eyebrows rise.

“You can’t live like this, Rome,” is all she provides with the little information she has.

“What?” He jerks up to look around to her. “You don’t think he’s gonna come find me?”

“I don’t think your dad has ever done his own dirty work.”

“Okay then. One of his flunkies if he can’t be fucked to then,” he spits as he leans back onto his knees stressed.

She pushes her hip closer to his, wraps her arm around his back, and bends to press herself into his side, her chin settling on his shoulder.

“Come on. Let’s just go back to yours. Your doorman won’t let anyone in. Especially if it’s Al; he likes you,” she tries again gently.

“You’ve even snuck by big Al,” he mumbles quietly.

“Then we’ll go to mine. Charlotte isn’t coming home tonight; she’s staying with a friend. We can figure this all out there,” she reasons as her hand strokes up and down his side, her lips connecting with his head to offer a comforting kiss.

He remains silent, the inner war with himself on what the fuck he should do ongoing.

“We need to tend to your face, honey. Get the swelling down. I’d rather not go to the emergency room but if that’s the only other option,” she shrugs slightly, trying to get him onside.

“I’m not putting you in danger, Gerri,” he says seriously, looking around to her a little, his swollen eye catching hers as she runs the tip of her finger along the swollen skin lightly as he winces in reaction, she wincing with him empathetically.

“We’re not in danger there. I promise. My door is solid, as are my locks. Trust me. No one could even kick that door down. I’m a middle-aged woman living in Manhattan; there’s no way I wasn’t buying the best of the best security when I moved in there. You know I have the security camera at the entrance to my apartment connected to my phone too, so we won’t open the door to anyone we don’t know. And even then, I have a taser and pepper spray,” she lists off hoping it will encourage and calm him a little.

“What? No tommy gun?” He teases a little, a small smirk appearing before he winces at the pain it generates.

“No,” she deadpans. “I’ve seen too many incidents backfire and it only ends in tears. I don’t agree with guns at all.”

He looks back to the ground, puffing, considering her offer.

If his dad wanted to find him, he would just have his credit card tracked anyway and find him immediately. There was no one else he trusted more to shelter him and not give him up.

“Okay,” he agrees with a sigh. “But only until we can figure something else out. I’m not staying long.”

“All right, honey.”

****

She finally has him sat at on the couch, an ice pack on his cheek, an ointment on his lip, though it had not been an easy fucking task.

He had been high strung, looking over his shoulder the whole way in the cab and on the way up to her door. He had insisted on making sure all the locks were secure enough, battering himself into the door a few times to ensure it was solid enough before he could settle.

She had finally got the whole story from him; the horror, disgust, and outright fury rising within her as he had progressed. At least he had tried to leave and heeded her warning; he had been smart. She can’t deny she’s glad that he’s cut ties with Logan.

It would be the making of him.

She can’t deny the hurt and confusion over Logan’s words about her too; the information he had divulged about Baird too making her unsettled, though she places it into the back of her mind to concentrate on him instead.

He is lying back across the couch now, his head in her lap as she holds the ice pack against his cheekbone, her other hand trailing through his hair.

He doesn’t seem as upset as she would have expected when he told her the story. A large antithesis from the last time she had comforted him in Argestes at the hands of his father; though she reasons that time he was beyond drunk. She’s actually so proud of the evidence of his maturity that he didn’t go straight to the bottle and instead called her for help.

The way he tells the story so matter-of-factly though is worrisome, though she puts it down to years of having to tell many stories like it, as much as the thought sickens her.

“What am I going to do?” He sighs with his eyes closed as his hand traces the top of her arm. “I’ve just cut off my dad. Fuck. Always thought it would be the other way around.”

“He doesn’t deserve you.”

“How am I going to tell the rest of them. They’ll suspect something when I don’t show up to dinner tomorrow. Ken won’t even be there to find out,” he huffs loudly, screwing his face up at the thought of it, grimacing as it causes more pain.

“Do you want to call them maybe?”

“Fuck no!” He protests loudly.

“Do you want me to call them?”

“No. I can do it. Just not tonight,” he reasons with his eyes still closed.

She’s beginning to worry that he doesn’t seem to be emotional at all about this when he had seemed to be becoming progressively upset about it on the phone earlier. She wonders if it’s maturity or simply him trying to hold it all in. Regardless, it’s not healthy.

“It’s only a few days,” he tries to bolster himself up as she thinks. “Only need to hide out for two days. I think a hotel is the best option. Or maybe I could go out of town. I could hire a car and just fuck off somewhere.”

“I don’t think he’s going to come after you, Rome. Honestly, I don’t," Gerri protests. “You shouldn’t have to run from him even if he is.”

“Dad doesn’t like losing. He’ll come. If not him, he’ll send someone. There’s no way he’s going to let this lie.”

“He did with Ken. Hasn’t spoken to him since the press conference. From what it sounds like, he sees what you did as a betrayal which sounds similar to Ken,” she tries to help figure it all out.

“But he’s also never hit Ken. I can’t go back to my apartment until Monday when he’s given himself up,” Roman decides. “Fuck, what about the interview?” He jolts up quickly. “I can’t go into it with this face.”

“We’ll see how bad it is by Tuesday. We can maybe get some makeup to put over it.”

“Okay,” he sighs, settling down again. “Okay.”

They sit quietly as he frowns, going through it all in his head again.

“It’s okay to be upset about it, Rome. He’s your dad and he’s hurt you. It’s okay to be upset about that and feel a kind of loss,” Gerri strokes his head gently, her voice just as soft.

“I don’t want to talk about it just now, Gerri,” he sits up quickly, stands to walk to get a drink.

“Rome, you can’t just avoid it. It’ll make it worse,” she reasons as she is left sitting holding the ice pack watching him.

“Please,” he says quickly before turning on his heel and standing in the middle of the room with his hands on his hips as he looks at the floor, her expression softening as she takes in his hurt. “Not tonight. Please,” he implores again as he looks up to her, his expression aching.

“Okay, honey,” she breathes quietly, dropping the icepack to the coffee table and standing up. “Okay. What about a bath? Hmm?” She approaches him slowly, wrapping her arms around his neck so she can hug him tightly, careful to avoid the left side of his face, his arms wrapping around her automatically. “Sooth your muscles a little. Or we can just go to bed and get some sleep? Hmm? Whatever you want to do.”

“I can’t stay here,” he protests quietly.

“Yes, you can. You’re safe here. You’re safe with me. I won’t let anyone hurt you. I promise,” she reassures. “We can just snuggle up in bed and get some sleep. It’s nearly midnight. You don’t want to go traipsing around Manhattan with no destination. Just stay,” she breathes, pecking her lips against his neck.

He considers her offer; had thrown himself up against the solid door for good measure. His exhaustion was winning against his caution though, especially with her wrapped around him, her scent invading his nostrils making it harder to say no to the offer.

“Yeah,” he breathes into her shoulder, his eyes tightly closed. “Okay. I’ll leave first thing in the morning.”

“Okay, good,” she pulls away with a small smile, stroking the right side of his face, kissing his forehead, as his hands tighten around her waist. “What about a drink? A small one? Or something to eat?”

“Nah,” he shakes his head. “I just want to go to sleep. Don’t want to think anymore.”

They go to bed silently; he stripping down to his boxers as she ends up in a nightshirt, her offering him her side of the bed so he can lie on her chest without any pressure on his wounded face.

She notes the swelling has decreased, though the bruising around his eye and cheekbone is becoming more evident just before she turns out the lights.

He lies across her chest, his head tucked into her neck as she strokes his back languidly, his breathing following the movements of her chest as he looks for some peace whilst she whispers comforting words and reminders of love into his ear.

It takes him longer than usual to get to sleep though he does eventually get there much to her delight.

Sleep, however, does not come to her.

She goes through the whole story he had told her in her head, trying to imagine how it had played out. Considering Logan’s fury. Envisaging Roman finally standing up to his father. She’s repulsed by the outcome of the whole thing but she’s so proud of Roman for having the gumption to do what most could not do when in a face-off with Logan Roy. She thinks it’s the closure he needs with his dad; the first step towards recovering from the abuse and damage Logan has inflicted.

She can’t help the tears that fall as she compares it to the dream she had had. Her worst nightmare becoming a reality.

She feels guilty; knows she should have gone with him so she could have stopped it. Her fury is also overwhelming; the temptation to go over there herself to release all the pent-up rage towards Logan becoming insurmountable. She’s astounded by how much she wants to make Logan suffer; make him feel what Roman is feeling and has felt. However, she has the sense not to; knows that it would create more bad than good, especially for Roman. But she wants to encourage Roman to press charges; something that is definitely best left for another time. The most astounding feeling of all though, that possesses her above all is her vicarious hurt for Roman. How she imagines he must have been feeling at the time; how she knows he will likely be affected by it from now on. Her heart breaks for him and she knows she would give anything to take it all away.

Then comes the ruminating about what he had told her about what Baird had apparently said to Logan. She wars between trying to decide on whether her late husband truly was the swine she never thought him to be, or if this was an elaborate story made up by Logan to try and bring Roman onside. She considers whether Baird would have betrayed her like that. It had been his rule to not discuss their relationship with anyone, especially in Waystar. She had trusted he had kept up his end of the bargain without question; however, the subject had been so close to reality it was hard to dismiss as lies.

Baird had often given into her when they had argued; she being the more fiery of the two of them, she had always won. But the thought that he considered that as her not being subservient to him was astounding.

Then there was Logan referring to them not having sex, causing him to seek it elsewhere regularly. It was true that they rarely were intimate, but again, that was the demands of the job which they both understood. Especially since he was getting his kicks elsewhere, it unsurprisingly was not at the top of her list to jump into bed with him regularly either; though she had tried to make herself a little more desirable for a while when she had been a little self-conscious that it could be her that was the problem. Not that it stopped his dalliances; hence why she stopped trying.

Then Baird feeling secondary to Waystar when she had become General Counsel after he had retired, seeking that comfort elsewhere. She wonders if that’s what drove him into Lily’s arms? If Gerri had been at fault for that. She had thought he had understood the importance and pressure from Waystar; he himself being in it for so many years understanding the demands it placed on all of them.

The comment about her neglecting her children had stung the most. How could Logan have known about any of that without Baird telling him about it? Or was it just the observation of all the men in Waystar because she was a woman and expected to be the one to give up everything for her children?

She dithers about whether to believe it or not. A lot of it had an element of truth, too close to home to instantly dismiss. She would need to get to the bottom of it eventually, though not now. There was too much else to think about.

But then there had been his comment about Edwin and how she could have had him if she had wanted him. Did he know about what happened with Edwin? Did he know that she had rejected him? Were they being trailed like she had suspected? How the fuck did Logan seem to have his fingers in every fucking pie of information? The man was fucking ubiquitous.

She doesn’t realise how long she lies there stroking his back thinking, until he stirs in his sleep, waking up. She strokes up to his hair now, taking in his groggy voice.

“What time is it?” He asks as she looks to the clock on the bedside table.

“3.35. You okay?”

“Yeah,” he groans, hugging her closer.

“What’s wrong?” She asks with her brow furrowed.

“Face hurts,” he mumbles into her shoulder, readjusting a little.

“That bad? Do you want some ice again?”

“Nah. Maybe some pain meds though.”

“All right. That might help a little,” she offers, pulling away as he settles into her pillow, inhaling it. “Do you want anything else?” She asks walking towards the door.

“Just some water,” he mumbles loudly.

“Okay, honey,” she says gently, padding in towards kitchen.

She doesn’t bother turning on any lights; knows the apartment like the back of her hand, her eyes adjusted to the dark enough to manoeuvre easily.

She goes directly to the medicine cabinet, grasping Aleve and Tylenol, before moving towards her fridge to grab a bottle of water.

That’s when she hears it.

Someone fiddling with her front door.

Her heart stops as she stands still, holding the fridge door open, halting her breathing, not moving an inch, to confirm that she can hear what she thinks she can; the noise of the bustle at the front door now obvious.

Surely someone wasn’t breaking in? She had thought that Roman had been paranoid; an obvious consequence of what he had been through. She never would have considered someone would try and break in to hurt Roman. Surely not? How would they even know he was here?

She closes the fridge door quietly, tiptoes to the edge of the kitchen, peeking around the edge of the frame when she hears the jostling of something inside the bottom lock, sees with her own eyes the door handle being pushed down before springing back up.

She panics; her taser was hidden in her wardrobe, her pepper spray in her bedside cabinet. She can’t even look on the CCTV to see who it is, her phone in the bedroom too. She finds herself looking around the kitchen, looking for anything that could be used instead; rushing towards the wooden knife block, pulling the biggest one out before dropping the pills onto the counter and rushing back towards the kitchen door to peek around again.

She considers running to get Roman but knows there isn’t enough time. She should have told him where the fucking weapons were, dammit. It didn’t matter. She wouldn’t let anyone near him. She even considers shouting a warning but doesn’t want to draw attention to herself if she’s going to pounce on them. She’ll shout once she has attacked them.

But what if there was more than one of them? She should have picked up three knives. Two to throw, one to defend herself.

But there isn’t time to go back now, she realises as the bottom mechanism seems to unlock, the intruder(s) moving to the top latch as she moves quietly closer to hide behind the front door as she knows it will inevitably swing open.

She would get them from behind.

The door swings open, hitting her as she presses against the wall, though she tries not to blanche out loud.

She’s just about to pounce on the intruder, her knife firm in her grasp, risen in the air as the light turns on suddenly, causing her to hesitate momentarily, the door closing as Charlotte screams in surprise when she sees Gerri.

“Oh my fucking god!” Charlotte screams, throwing the door back open instinctively to hit her mom with it as Gerri shouts out loud now as the weight batters into her.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Gerri shouts, as the door handle thuds her on the hip, pushing it away from her quickly as it slams shut.

“Mom! What the fuck! It’s me!” Charlotte shouts with her hands up in the air, Gerri grasping her chest, her death grip on the knife slackening, as she doubles over holding her knees, taking deep breaths.

“Gerri!” She hears Roman shout from the bedroom as Charlottes eyes widen. “Gerri! Is everything okay?” She hears Roman’s worried cry, as footsteps fill the silence, her own eyes bulging.

She watches as Charlotte mouths a ‘ _what the fuck? He’s here?’_

“Get in here,” she grasps Charlottes arm, pulling and then pushing her towards the kitchen, before passing her the knife she was yielding; closing the door behind her as she makes her way towards the master bedroom, a dishevelled Roman running towards her brandishing a heavy stone bust ornament. 

“It’s all right, Rome,” she soothes with her hands up as he stands in the doorway, his eyes wide, his panic obvious. “Charlotte came home,” she forces a soft smile, approaching him slowly.

“Fuck,” he splutters, the panic not dissipating, lowering the ornament from above his head. “I’ll go,” he determines quickly as he turns around towards the bedroom.

“No!” She shouts, walking towards him, as he turns back around to face her. “It’s all right. Go back to bed and I’ll be in with the pills in a minute. It’s okay,” she reassures, touching his forearm and kissing his unharmed cheek.

“I don’t know, Gerri,” he protests. “It’s fucking awkward.”

“It’s all right. You won’t have to see each other. Just go back in and I’ll be in in a minute. Don’t worry about it,” she soothes, running her hand through his hair.

“You sure?” He asks reticently.

“Yeah. Promise,” she smiles. “Go on,” she encourages as he walks back in, whilst she closes the door behind him, moving back towards the kitchen.

“Dammit Charlotte! What the fuck are you doing here?! You said you were staying with a friend,” Gerri rounds on her quickly, shutting the door firmly behind her.

“What am _I_ doing here?” Charlotte laughs, loving watching Gerri squirm. “What’s he doing here? And what are you doing trying to murder me?” She asks raiding the fridge, completely unphased.

“He needed my help and I obviously thought you were an intruder since I didn’t expect you home! Now you,” Gerri directs, crossing her arms over, watching her youngest destroy the whole arrangement of the contents of her fridge.

“Fucking Madison. Stupid bitch,” Charlotte grimaces, as she pulls out butter, throwing it onto the counter before slamming bread into the toaster as she continues her story. “Ditched me in the club to go home with some asshole. I told her it was fucking stupid, but does she listen to me? No. She asks me to come back with them. Like fuck was I going to do that,” she protests, much to Gerri’s silent relief. “So, since I had nowhere to go; I thought it would be okay to come back here. Didn’t realise you would take the opportunity for a raunchy night in,” she teases, looking over her shoulder to give an exaggerated wink.

“It’s not like that! He –,” Gerri hesitates, knowing she promised to tell her kids the whole truth from now on, though she’s unsure if it’s her secret to tell. “Don’t say anything to anyone! I mean it,” she warns as Charlotte offers a smirk over her shoulder, interested in where this is going. “He told Logan and it didn’t go well.”

“How not well?” Charlotte asks, looking over her shoulder and taking in her mother’s morbid expression now, before turning around fully.

“His dad beat him up,” Gerri sighs, her shoulders hunching.

“Fuccckkkkk,” Charlotte breathes. “That’s harsh. Did you call the police?”

“No,” Gerri protests strongly. “Fuck no. He’s just struggling with it.”

“As you would be. How bad is it? The damage?” She asks as she hears the toaster pop up, turning around to begin buttering it.

Gerri is momentarily distracted, starts grimacing as she watches her daughter dip the crumbed knife back into the butter, the toast directly on her kitchen counter as she realises she can no longer take it; walking to the cupboard to get her a plate.

“Don’t put the crumbs back into the butter. Jesus,” Gerri scolds as she puts the toast on the plate before getting a cloth to scoop all of the crumbs into her hand, moving to throw them into the trash as Charlotte watches her, taking a bite of her toast.

“It’s not great. He’s pretty banged up. Black eye, swelling, burst lip,” she sighs, as Charlotte crunches the toast, shaking her head.

“You should get him to talk it out. Will likely lead to PTSD. I can give you the number of someone I went to college with if you need someone who specialises,” Charlotte rhymes off through her crunching nonchalantly.

“It’s fine. He’ll be gone by the morning. Don’t worry. We’re just trying to figure out the best option for him until Monday,” Gerri treads softly.

“Monday?” Charlotte asks confused, holding her toast up just short of her mouth.

“Logan giving himself up,” she reminds her, reaching past her to open the butter, picking up the knife to clean it thoroughly in the sink before scooping out the crumbs from the tub.

“Ahhh. Okay,” Charlotte nods this time, finally biting into her toast.

“But I swear he’ll be gone in the morning. You won’t need to meet him,” Gerri offers panicked as she returns the butter back to fridge, picking up a bottle of water and putting it on the counter before moving to clean the knife again.

“Fuck mom. I’m not heartless. I’m not Maddie,” Charlotte jokes. “If he feels better here, let him stay. Poor fuck,” she says through a mouthful of toast that Gerri would normally admonish though she is more astounded by what’s coming out of her mouth.

Gerri sighs, rubbing her forehead, before seeing the pills on the counter and moving to pick them up along with the bottle of water.

“I don’t know, Charlotte. I don’t want it to be uncomfortable for either of you,” Gerri reasons.

“I don’t give a fuck,” Charlotte shrugs. “Dude definitely needs some comfort and help and I’m not going to be the one to take that away from him. It’s against my Psychiatric Practice Code of Ethics,” she jokes.

“Thank you honey,” Gerri smiles, moving to peck her youngest’s cheek. “I’ll tell you the whole story tomorrow, but I need to get these to him.”

“Okay,” Charlotte smiles gently. “Let me know if you want me to make breakfast in the morning. It would be my pleasure, since you suck at cooking.”

“I do not suck at cooking,” Gerri protests walking out the kitchen as Charlotte follows her. “Light,” she warns, as Charlotte rolls her eyes and reaches back to turn the kitchen light off as Gerri moves to lock the front door.

“Sorry, but you do. Comfort yes. Cooking no. Though I can do both, we can’t all be perfect,” Charlotte teases as she stops in front of the spare bedroom door.

“If only we could all be as flawless as you,” Gerri jests over her shoulder.

“It’s impossible. You’ll die trying,” Charlotte quips back, opening the door.

“Night, night, honey,” Gerri says softly, through a smile. “Get some sleep.”

“Night,” Charlotte yawns before shutting her door with her plate of half-eaten toast.

****

Roman had discarded the ornament and paced around the room as soon as Gerri had sent him back in, his worry over being in the same apartment as her daughter climbing. He wasn’t ready for this. Wasn’t sure what he was meant to say if he ended up running into her and it was hardly a good time to meet her daughter when he looked like he’d been beaten to a pulp. What would she even think?

His ruminating continues until his bladder finally calls him into the bathroom.

It’s the first time he’s really looked at his wounds and fuck did it look bad. He can see the blackening of his eye and cheekbone now obvious, though his lip did look a little better, though swollen. He can’t imagine how this could ever be covered up with makeup, not matter what she had said.

He ends up moving back into the bedroom, sitting in the middle of her bed with his legs crossed, simply waiting for her to come back.

It’s not long before she reappears, holding the medication with a bottle of water.

“Fuck, that’s not how I saw this going,” she laughs a little, closing the door behind her.

“I thought someone attacked you,” he tells her, looking at her with his wide eyes.

“I thought someone broke in!” She laughs a little, moving towards him to get the pills from the bottle for him. “I almost stabbed Charlotte to death.”

“Fuck,” he breathes. “How did she take me being here? Is she pissed off?”

“No actually,” she tells him simply. “She said you should stay.”

He looks at her nonchalant demeanour sceptically until it clicks.

“I assume you told her?” He huffs, lying back on the bed as she holds out the four pills and the bottle of water.

“I had to, Rome. I told them both I wouldn’t lie to them anymore. She asked me directly,” she tells him as her shoulders sink, the water bottle leaning against the bed now, as she watches him groan and burrow the heels of his palms into his eye sockets. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. I just didn’t think their first impression of me would be a pathetic loser,” he mumbles, puffing.

“She doesn’t think that. No one thinks that,” she says sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I’ll leave first thing,” he states, sighing deeply.

“That’s up to you,” she offers in return, nudging his knee with her fist. He pulls his hands away looking at her as she holds up the pills and water again expectantly.

He groans sitting up as he takes the pills off her, throwing it into the back of his throat as she opens the bottle, holding it out to him. He devours half the bottle before he comes up for air, taking the cap from her.

“Thank you,” he mutters, as she offers a lopsided smile. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” he groans, crawling up to the pillow and shuffling back under the covers.

“Like what?” She asks protesting.

“Like fucking sympathetically. Like with pity, man,” he groans out, lying back into the pillows.

“But I do feel sympathy for you,” she offers, being met with an instant groan as she stands up and walks around the bed before getting back in next to him, turning the light off again. “I feel a lot of things right now. I’m hurt for you; that you had to go through that because of me,” she reasons, turning on her side to caress her hand across his midriff.

“It’s not because of you. It’s because I gave him cheek,” he reasons.

“It doesn’t matter why he did it. What matters is that you had to go through it. And since I love you and I don’t want anyone to hurt you, it hurts me that he hurt you,” she tells him seriously, only his deep breathing as a response. “It’s called empathy, Rome,” she jests. “You know, that thing you get when you understand someone else’s feelings.”

He laughs a little, bringing his hand up to weave his fingers through hers on his midriff.

“I wish I was there to defend you,” she admits into the darkness, rubbing her thumb against his hand. “I should have been there. I could have done something. I shouldn’t have let you go in alone when I suspected something like this could have happened.”

“Fuck off, Gerri. This isn’t your fault,” he defends immediately. “He’s a fucking psycho. He was always going to do something crazy. I was stupid to not see it coming. Story of my life though, isn’t it? Too fucking stupid. Too fucking weak. Not fucking good enough,” he spits out angrily as tears start filling his eyes.

“No, honey. You’re none of that,” she protests, leaning up on her elbow, pressing against his side.

“What the fuck did I ever do for him to hate me so much? He never hit Ken or Shiv, so why me? Like was I just the shittiest of them all? Like was I just not good enough?”

“No,” she breathes. “Not at all, Rome –”

“He definitely never wanted me. Neither did mom. Dad wanted a Ken. An army of Kens and he got fucking me. Mom just didn’t want kids at all. Fuck knows what she wanted,” he reasons as his tears flow freer.

“Fuck them, Roman,” she spits angrily. “Fuck both of them. Your dad is a bully. He didn’t want children; he wanted little employees. He wanted people he could control and mould because he’s a tyrannical fucking bully. It’s nothing to do with you. It’s to do with him. And your mom,” she sighs. “Fuck knows what your mom wanted but she probably was just too selfish to be a mom. And more fool her because she’s missed out on someone great.”

“Like if they couldn’t do it themselves then why didn’t they at least hire an au pair who did want us and love us instead of just leaving us all fucking stranded,” he mutters through his sharp breaths as his emotion begins building up.

“I don’t know why, Rome. He probably thought it was soft if you were all showered with love. I don’t know. Maybe he thinks what he gives is love?”

“Hitting me? Terrifying me since I was kid, Gerri,” he splutters desperately. “Making it so I was under his thumb my whole life. I’m thirty fucking nine, Gerri. And I’m running around Manhattan after he beats me up and hiding out because I’m fucking petrified of what he’ll do when he finds me again.”

“He’s not going to find you. I’ll fucking kill him before he hurts you again,” she tells him resolutely as her own tears start to form.

“He’s not getting anywhere near you,” he argues. “I shouldn’t even be fucking here,” he starts to sit up.

“Stop!” She directs before he can rise any further, her hand releasing from his to push him back down. “Just relax, okay? You’re letting your mind run riot.”

“Why is it only me that gets it, Gerri? He’s my dad, man,” he wonders softly, his voice quivering with emotion. “Why did he never want me? Aren’t dads supposed to like have that fucking cave man, instinctual thing in them to love their offspring. Why didn’t he love me?”

“I love you, Rome. I want you. I’m here for you and I won’t leave you,” she promises solidly leaning closer to his face, kissing his cheek hard, not wanting to risk his sore lip getting worse, her hand leaving his to wrap around his face gently as he clings to her upper arm as though he was falling off a cliff and she was the only edge to cling onto.

It’s then that the damn bursts, what she had been expecting a lot earlier as his tears fall, his whole-body wracking with sobs as he pulls her closer; her eyes drifting closed as her tears fall alongside his, her pain mimicking his.

“I’m not your dad and I’m not your mom but fuck, do I love you,” she tells him as she presses kisses to his temple, her arms solidly around him. “I will never let anything like this happen to you again. I swear on everything that this is never going to happen to you again.”

“You can’t promise that,” he splutters out weakly.

“I already have. You and those two girls are the most important things to me in my whole life. I’m not going to risk you ever being abused by him again. You’re too special to me; too important for me to risk. I’ll never ever risk that again,” she tells him resolutely.

“You don’t need to do that, Gerri,” he tries to backtrack, tries to calm himself down a bit. “I should be taking care of you.”

“We should be taking care of each other,” she pulls back smiling at him, unsure if he can even see it in the dark, pushing his tears away from his cheeks. She leans down to offer him a gentle peck to his lips; the pressure so light she wonders if he even feels it until he grips her nightshirt tighter at her waist.

“I love you, Gerri. So fucking much,” Roman proclaims firmly, pushing back onto her lips a bit harder, riding through the pain because feeling her is more important. She pulls back quickly, tracing her fingertips across his harsh lip.

“I love you, Rome,” she breathes. “And I’ve been thinking that maybe we need to think about moving things forward now that we’re going public,” she reasons.

His brow furrows, his hand tracing her back.

“Like what?”

“Well, I’m coming to stay with you on Monday for a while until the media dies down. Maybe we should see it as an experiment. See how we get on living together for a while and then maybe,” she trails off, stroking his lips softer with her finger.

“What like moving in together?” He asks, his pitch raising quickly.

“Yeah,” she laughs. “Maybe. We can see how this goes and yeah, if it goes well then, I don’t see why not. I’m already struggling to sleep without you,” she snorts, embarrassed a little at the admission. “If you want to that is.”

“Of course, I fucking want to!” He shouts, pulling her in for another hard kiss, opening his mouth to seek access which she gives shortly before pulling back.

“Your lip,” she reminds him with a lilt.

“Fuck my lip,” he says pushing his mouth to hers again as she responds easily.

“You have no idea how happy that makes me, Gerri,” he sighs when he pulls back, pressing his forehead to hers.

“Ditto. But remember it’s just a little trial. You might hate living with me,” she smiles, offering a final peck before pulling him into her arms so he isn’t tempted to kiss her and hurt his lip anymore; she’s sure she has a metallic taste in her mouth that could be his blood.

“Like fuck. And I know it’s just a trial but even that is fucking such a relief. I wanted to ask for so long but didn’t want to push,” he divulges, as he pushes his head into her neck, inhaling her.

“Well I’ve asked now so,” she trails off. “I need to see about getting my name on the London townhouse too. Getting my funds together. I’ve been thinking I might sell the house on the Martha’s Vineyard instead. I never use it and neither do the girls. It’s a seller’s market just now so I should make a fair bit on it.”

“Why can’t you just let me gift you the London house,” he asks frustrated. “A moving in gift.”

“No,” she shoots down immediately. “I want everything to be equal. I want to pay my own way. Plus, I don’t think you’re supposed to buy your girlfriend a moving in gift, especially not a fucking townhouse in London,” she laughs.

“My girlfriend is different though,” he reasons, pecking her neck. “She deserves the fucking world.”

“So does my boyfriend, but I don’t have his wealth,” she laughs. “Now why don’t you get some sleep. It’s nearly four and we need to be up early to figure out what to do with you and sneak you out before Charlotte gets up.”

He sighs, closing his eyes softly as he snuggles into her.

“Thanks, Gerri,” he whispers into her neck.

“Love you, honey.”

****

They sleep in the next morning, her alarm not having been set, they wake just after 9am.

She supposes that Charlotte will probably still be asleep, having come in late and nearly being brutalised by her own mother.

They agree for him to go to a hotel nearby with some of the clothes he has left at her apartment. They book it under a fictitious name in order to avoid it being tracked back to him. She thinks its excessive but if it makes him feel safer, she’ll go along with it.

They are in the process of sneaking him out, a light peck by the door when Charlotte dips her head of the kitchen door.

“Hey! I’m Charlotte!” She shouts cheerily, causing Gerri to jump in shock as he recoils in embarrassment of the whole thing, trying to remain profile so she won’t see his battered face.

“Hi-ya, I’m Roman,” he offers awkwardly. “I’m sorry. I’m just- I’m just leaving,” he stutters, pointing to the door for good measure.

He notices that she looks exactly like Gerri; though she wears her long blonde untamed curly hair exactly how he keeps telling Gerri she should wear it, without all the fucking blow outs and straightening. Kind of like Tabitha’s he realises. She’s about the same height as Gerri. Pretty slim, though he can’t really tell from her oversized pyjamas.

“Jesus. Are you a psychiatrist or a fucking cat burglar?” Gerri asks frustrated, holding her hand to her chest.

“Ha fucking ha!” Charlotte rolls her eyes. “I made us all breakfast! Thought you might be hungry after a big sleep in.”

Roman’s surprised, actually kind of impressed that her daughter seems pretty cool. Anyone who had the confidence to challenge Gerri, is definitely someone he wants to find out more about. And she’s made an effort to include him which he thinks is actually pretty decent.

“Oh honey,” Gerri sighs. “Thank you but Roman has to go and –,” she continues as Roman tugs on her cardigan arm, his eyes wide as he tries to expressively tell her that he doesn’t want to be rude if her daughter has made an effort. He actually had fucking nowhere to go apart from sit by himself in a hotel flicking through channels anyway.

“What’d you make?” He asks curiously.

“Oh! Eggs, bacon,” she begins to list until she looks over her shoulder back into the kitchen. “Shit. Hold on! The fucking toast is burning,” she shouts as she sprints out of sight, bringing a small chuckle to his lips.

“She’s made an effort,” he notes with a soft voice, treading delicately to see if Gerri even wants him to stay.

“You don’t need to stay if you’re uncomfortable,” Gerri offers, hardly reading what he’s trying to convey. “She’ll eat twice as much if you want to go anyway.”

“She seems nice,” he notes.

“She’s my child! Of course she’s a delight!” She jests as he smiles, looking over to the kitchen as Gerri begins to catch on. “Do you want to stay?”

“Do you mind?” He fires back quietly.

“Not at all. I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable. Clearly Charlotte isn’t but you’ve had a rough night,” she offers, caressing his cheek.

“IT’S OKAY!” They hear Charlotte shout from the kitchen. “I SALVAGED THE TOAST!”

They both laugh as Gerri rolls her eyes, looking for his decision.

“Fuck it,” he decides. “Better do it now than let it become awkward when it will need to happen eventually, right?” He looks to her for approval.

“All right,” she smiles, taking his hand and squeezing it.

“I’m fucking starving anyway. Wonder if she made sausages,” he smiles.

“Doubt it,” she laughs, letting go of his hand as he drops the bag she had packed for him onto the floor, taking his coat off. “CHARLOTTE!” Gerri shouts as she turns towards the kitchen. “YOU BETTER NOT HAVE DESTROYED MY KITCHEN!”

She smiles, beginning to lead the way as they hear Charlotte calling back.

“WHY? BECAUSE YOU’RE ALL OF A SUDDEN A DOMESTIC FUCKING GODDESS WHO SPENDS HER DAYS BAKING IN HERE. GET REAL! YOU CAN’T EVEN BOIL AN EGG!”

Roman laughs as Gerri has the good grace to look offended as he takes a deep breath, crossing the kitchen threshold.


	6. Breakfast

He finds himself sitting at Gerri’s dining table; a place that has never been a hardship until now. However, as Charlotte sits across from him, one knee almost touching her chin as her foot perches on her chair, shovelling scrambled eggs into her mouth, he can’t help but feel a little nervous. Gerri sits at the top of the table sipping a mug of coffee, her eyes darting between both Charlotte and Roman, her empty stomach churning a little, waiting for someone to break this silence.

“So, what’s your intentions towards my mother?” Charlotte deadpans, looking him directly in the eye with Gerri’s infamous glare.

_A great start._

Roman’s mouth drops open, looking to Gerri as she narrows her eyes towards her daughter.

He can’t tell if she’s joking or not. It’s not a question he’s ever considered the answer to.

“Uhm…,” he wavers, trying to think of something good to say.

“Jesus. I’m kidding,” Charlotte giggles. “Though that’s what mom did to my apparently unfavourable boyfriend. You should see your face,” she smiles, cutting into a slice of bacon and packing the fork with more eggs and mushrooms, as Roman sighs in relief with a small smile.

“No, like literally. Looks like you’ve been beaten with a mallet. How does it feel?” Charlotte asks, trying to fit her overloaded fork it into her mouth, whilst Roman looks down at his plate awkwardly.

“Jesus, Charlotte,” Gerri sighs, closing her eyes momentarily.

“What?” Charlotte spurts with a full mouth. “It looks sore,” she mumbles, holding her hand up to her mouth to prevent anything from escaping.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Gerri admonishes. “And use your damn napkin.”

Roman can’t help a small smirk, looking up to catch Charlotte rolling her eyes as she mocks Gerri by dramatically dabbing at the sides of her mouth with a napkin.

“Happy dear?” Charlotte rolls her eyes before looking to Roman expectantly.

“Yeah, it’s okay. Looks worse than it feels, though it’s a bit tender,” Roman offers quietly. “Should have seen the other guy,” he tries to joke, his eye nipping at his eyes crinkle into a smile.

“Who? The guy who gave you half your genetics?” Charlotte fires back quickly.

It was an unusual feeling for him, someone jibing him in the exact same way he would mock them. He wonders if that’s why Gerri can handle his arbitrary chat so easily; it seems she may have been on the receiving end of it with her youngest daughter for quite some time.

“Jesus Charlotte! A little sensitivity,” Gerri scolds immediately. “Don’t answer that Roman. Clearly no amount of expensive elite education could teach her any fucking manners.”

“What? Because I address the elephant in the room? Excuse the fuck out of me,” Charlotte defends lightly, waving her fork in the air.

“Actually, Charlotte, I appreciate the directness,” Roman pipes up with a smile as Gerri’s face softens. “I could never be fucked with all the merry-go-round bullshit. I much prefer honesty, so yeah. My dad beat the shit out of me,” he offers to her soberly, staring her directly in the eye as she nods sympathetically.

“And how are you coping with that? You talked it out yet?” She asks seriously, flickering her eyes at her mom.

Gerri should never have underestimated her youngest daughter. Charlotte had always been able to read a whole person’s psyche within just a few minutes of meeting them. Since going to college, Charlotte had commonly went instinctively into her psychiatric training when the situation had arisen. It shouldn’t surprise her that she had a plan to take this approach with Roman as a professional, rather than a daughter meeting her mother’s boyfriend given the circumstances. Charlotte always did have a way of making people feel at ease; a certain charm about her. Not to mention that since she was a child, she had a caring nature with an overwhelming need to help people; something that Gerri had always considered a welcome antithesis of her parents who had chosen a life of criminal debauchery.

“Rome, remember I told you that Charlotte is a psychiatrist,” Gerri divulges to him, noting his wide eyes, reaching across to put her hand on top of his and offering a squeeze before pulling back immediately.

“You don’t need to answer anything by the way,” Charlotte offers nonchalantly with a shrug, cutting into her eggs again. “I specialise in addictions, but you learn the general shit of the fucked up brain. How people cope with shit.”

“Is that the technical term?” Gerri jokes, rolling her eyes.

“Wish my shrink spoke to me like you do,” he laughs, reaching to take a sip of his coffee.

“Wish I was allowed to speak to my clients like that,” Charlotte smiles. “Look, from the little my mom told me, you’ve been through a bit of an ordeal and I imagine there’s a lot of history there,” she continues seriously, leaning over her plate towards him. “It’s good that you have a shrink and you should probably go see them so you can work this out. If you’ve not talked about it already, you definitely should, or it’ll manifest into something worse. I already said to mom that I have a friend I went to college with who specialises in PTSD if anything develops from it. If you’re interested just get mom to let me know and I can get her details to you.”

“Thanks,” he says quietly. “I appreciate that. Will give it a think over.”

He looks around to Gerri who offers a small smile as Charlotte offers an aloof shrug and reaches for her coffee.

He’s not ready to talk about it professionally quite yet but he’ll get there. He just wants to concentrate on getting through today and tomorrow so this anxious feeling in the pit of his stomach will fuck off. However, he has a funny feeling it’s only going to alleviate with his dad being locked away.

“So, a psychiatrist? How’s that? And you’re in Chicago, right?” He asks trying to take the conversation away from himself.

“Yeah. I do love it, but there’s nothing more annoying than when people don’t try to help themselves, though I have to remind myself that everyone processes shit in their own time,” she begins as he looks at her oddly, as though she’s a bit harsh. “Like someone coming in and telling me they have an addiction because of their shitty boyfriend mentally fucking them up and you want to be like DUMP HIS ASS, but you can’t. You need to go about it in this roundabout way of trying to help them realise their triggers themselves and then eventually guide them to make the healthy choice in their lives.”

“I can imagine,” Roman offers, leaning on his elbow listening to her.

Gerri’s never really had this conversation with her daughter about her work; had always just let Charlotte get on with it and come to her with her frustrations if she had them. She would need to make a conscious effort to ask more questions.

“Yeah, and Chicago has a lot of addiction there,” Charlotte continues. “Especially being a big city. But it’s not just opioids and alcohol in the deprived people, though that’s pretty common. I get all kinds. Sex, shopping, plastic surgery, exercise. Elite clients like lawyers, doctors, politicians. Cell phone addiction is on the rise too. Breaking up a lot of relationships so people come and get help for it,” Charlotte chatters as she pushes her empty plate away from her.

“Charlotte’s in the middle of her PhD,” Gerri smiles proudly, finally picking up her fork to eat a little as she feels more at ease.

“Oh yeah? What do you need to do for that?” Roman asks chewing on his bacon.

“Because I already have the master’s I work mainly for the experience to build up credits, but my research thesis is looking into addiction to food. How we’re getting to the point that obesity is nearly half the population of each age group in the US, especially amongst young people and then the health effects that can have are getting worse. But yet we’ve only really admonished people for it and encouraged them to go on fad diets and eat healthier which they often struggle to do themselves because the behaviour patterns already exist. So my theory is that we should actually be treating it like an addiction that needs therapy to overcome,” she explains animatedly, throwing her hands around in the air to explain it.

“Yeah, then I imagine there is the addiction to food the other way, like people unhealthily being attached to healthy food or eating too few calories, leading to anorexia bla bla,” he offers before taking a sip of his coffee.

Gerri looks at him interestedly, her eyebrows rising. She’s never seen him so reserved and focussed when having a conversation. She wonders if this is maturity or him trying very hard to make an effort.

“Yeah, exactly. Society and the Government aren’t treating this like it’s a genuine psychological issue that needs help and instead are just judging these people and letting them fend for themselves instead of giving them the tools to actually overcome it and lead a healthier lifestyle,” she explains again.

“But what about the less advantaged people who can’t afford the therapy to overcome that?” Gerri asks.

“Well, that’s the issue isn’t it?” Charlotte huffs, raising her eyebrows.

“Charlotte’s a liberal,” Gerri laughs a little in explanation to Roman. “The worst kind,” she jokes as Roman raises his eyebrows.

“What the fuck is wrong with that? What’s wrong with believing that everyone should be entitled to the same fucking healthcare and it not be dependent on their income or socio-economic status?” Charlotte raises her voice angrily.

“She always bites,” Gerri smiles into her mug of coffee.

“I don’t know why you pretend you’re for the GOP when you’re just as secretly liberal as I am,” Charlotte challenges Gerri with a quirked eyebrow that she only could have learned from her mother, it’s so fucking accurate.

“Gerri!” Roman plays along with mock astonishment. “Gerri Kellman a fucking democrat! Bleugh.”

Gerri rolls her eyes, looking down at her plate to avoid them both.

“I know you fucking voted for Hillary!” Charlotte goads her. “Don’t lie.”

“My vote is private. And it’s rude to ask,” Gerri deadpans, calmly placing her mug down onto the table before slowly picking up her cutlery.

“Do you have a secret pink fucking pussy hat here as well? Did you go to the #MeToo march? Now I think of it, I think I seen you when I was watching the coverage,” Roman jests, raising his eyebrows to Charlotte as she starts laughing.

“Yeah, she was the one with the sunglasses, the brown wig, and the Max Mara coat,” Charlotte plays along giggling.

“The Me Too movement isn’t something to joke about in our current corporate situation,” Gerri offers seriously, popping scrambled egg into her mouth and chewing slowly.

“Come on, Geraldine,” Charlotte laughs. “Admit it. You’re a blue. You’re absolutely for Obamacare and abortion and LGBT rights and all that jazz.”

“You _are_ for LGBT rights. I know that,” Roman offers, reaching his hand to rest on her forearm to stroke as Gerri simply sighs through her chewing and raises her eyebrows. “Makes sense why you watch PGM now.”

“I watch that to keep an eye on our competitors. It’s my job,” Gerri offers resolutely, before sipping her coffee again.

“Or is it because you secretly agree with everything they say? You sit at home with a martini shouting at your relic TV about how wrong ATN have it,” Charlotte laughs, leaning her elbows on the table.

Roman throws his head back laughing, hitting the table at the mention of her TV.

“So, you’ve noticed the TV too?”

“What the fuck is wrong with my TV?” Gerri asks exasperated looking back and forth between them.

“What’s right with that TV? Is that the TV that John Logie Baird himself invented? Did he pass it onto you so that you could sell it at auction one day and make a fortune, because in that case, leave it to me in your will. Fuck Maddie,” Charlotte chides laughing.

“I call it her boomer TV,” he giggles, feeling so much lighter, taking in a pouting Gerri as Charlotte laughs along.

“Leave my TV out of this. I’ll never get rid of that TV now. I feel like I need to defend it until death and leave it to charity instead of an ungrateful like pain in my ass like you. Go back to calling me a lefty,” Gerri smirks, enjoying the teasing and how they both seem to be getting along.

“Would it make you feel better to know I voted Hillary?” Roman smirks as Gerri narrows her eyes.

“Yeah right,” Gerri challenges. “Like hell would you ever vote for anyone who was going to take away tax cuts to the filthy rich.”

“Well, I fucking did,” he laughs, leaning against the back of his chair, as Charlotte looks between the two of them.

“Really?” Charlotte asks, pulling a face as though she was kind of impressed.

“Why would you do that?” Gerri presses, clasping her hands and leaning her elbows on the table.

“Cause she’s hot,” he shrugs as though it was obvious as Gerri rolls her eyes, Charlotte laughing.

“Of course, you would vote based on that,” she shakes her head with a small smile.

“She is hot,” Charlotte agrees as Roman looks to her surprised.

“Woman in charge of the most powerful country in the world. It’s hot,” Roman shrugs with a small smirk.

Gerri has no idea if he’s joking or not, she’s trying to read him but he’s giving nothing away.

“It’s a fucking scandal that she didn’t get in. She won the popular vote but don’t get me fucking started on that,” Charlotte puffs angrily.

“You not think your mom kind of looks like Hillary? Hotter of course but, just a little,” he asks with a smile, never taking his eyes off Gerri who is offering a flirtatious quirk of her lips; taking it for the compliment it was.

“Don’t ruin it for me, Roman,” Charlotte deadpans, watching the exchange between her mother and her new boyfriend.

“Can we change the topic away from politics?” Gerri asks. “It never ends well in this household,” she directs, collecting their plates to stack on top of hers.

“Can’t we have a little fun considering Maddie isn’t here?” Charlotte whines with a smile.

“Don’t start,” Gerri warns, taking the plate Charlotte hands to her.

“Why? Maddie got some strong views?” Roman asks curiously.

“She has wrong views,” Charlotte offers under her breath.

“Charlotte,” Gerri warns again, with a pointed look.

“Maddie is a Republican,” Charlotte rolls her eyes.

“Is that a bad thing?” He asks with a smile.

“Not always but in Maddie’s case. Yes,” Charlotte divulges, completely ignoring her mother.

“Don’t talk about her when she isn’t here to defend herself,” Gerri states staunchly, taking Roman’s plate and adding it to the stack.

“We will leave that for lunch when she arrives,” Charlotte conspires with a wry smile. “You’re staying, aren’t you?” She directs to Roman. “For the showdown?”

Gerri’s eyes widen, looking around to Roman who instantly becomes awkward, moving his hands under his thighs to sit on them.

“Uhm… well I hadn’t planned on it,” is all he can think to say.

“You need to meet Maddie. Get it all over with. Meeting me hasn’t been that bad, right? Though I’m definitely the more fun of the two,” she grins, leaning her chin onto her fists.

“Charlotte,” Gerri warns. “Stop fishing. Don’t you think Roman’s had a tough enough time putting up with your badgering? They’ll meet when they’re comfortable. Maddie doesn’t even know he’s here.”

As though by some fucking miracle, his phone starts ringing loudly; which he instantly looks at to see Ken’s name displayed.

“Uhm… it’s Kendall… my brother. I should… uhm… take this,” he says awkwardly holding the phone up, receiving a small nod from Gerri.

“Hey man, how you doing?” He says into the phone as he gets up from the table, walking directly into the bedroom to continue the conversation.

“Charlotte, don’t push him,” Gerri directs as she stands up with the stack of plates. “Grab the mugs,” she orders as she begins walking to the kitchen, Charlotte hot on her tail.

“I’m not pushing him! I’m inviting him. I thought you would like it for us to be so inviting and accepting,” she offers as she places the mugs on the counter.

“And you have been. It was very kind for you to be so warm; making breakfast and making him feel at ease, but you don’t know how daunting it may be doing two in one day. Not to mention how comfortable Maddie would be with the prospect of meeting him.”

“I’ll handle Maddie,” Charlotte waves off as though that was the easy part of this.

“Oh, will you?” Gerri challenges with a laugh. “Do you remember what she was like only two nights ago when she found out about him?”

“Yeah, so?”

“So, it might be a bit too much too soon,” Gerri confirms, placing the dirty plates into the sink.

“Geraldine. Geraldine. Geraldine,” Charlotte smirks, shaking her head from side to side with a sigh.

“Don’t call me that. You know I hate it,” Gerri threatens, swinging around to face her and pointing a finger.

“Mother dearest. Do you know your eldest child at all?” Charlotte tilts her head to the side. “When she finds out I’ve met him, and she hasn’t, she’s gonna flip her shit. Like FOMO to the max.”

“FOMO?”

“Fear of missing out,” Charlotte nods. “You want to think about encouraging him to stay before she gets all uppity about being left out of something so exciting. Because you know she will. It’ll just be another mark against your name and another agonising fight I’m going to have to break up.”

Gerri sighs resigned, rubbing her palm across her forehead anxiously.

“I can’t deny she probably will,” Gerri huffs, looking to her daughter with a pout.

“Yeah, so leave the conservative queen to me and you work on him,” she smiles, leaning to kiss Gerri on the cheek.

“I don’t want either of them pushed into it, Charlotte. I mean it. Find out if she’s open to it and then I will see if Roman is. If they aren’t then all bets are off. You understand?”

“Oh, she’ll be up for it. You’re talking to the princess of persuasion. You just start thinking about how to convince him,” she says quirking her eyebrows up and down knowingly.

“Go and get ready,” Gerri orders forcefully, throwing a dish towel at her as Charlotte laughs. 

“Fuck that. I’m going for a run,” Charlotte says throwing it back.

“What? You’re supposed to be helping me cook, since you’re supposed to be a fucking gourmet chef now,” Gerri throws her hands up, her exasperation clear.

“Yeah, and I will be. Only be gone for an hour,” she shouts over her shoulder, leaving the kitchen.

“An hour! It’s already after ten! Charlotte! We need to start prep!”

“Yeah, and so what if we eat an hour later. I need to maintain this goddess physique and call Maddie!” She shouts from the hallway.

“Fucking pain in the ass,” Gerri sighs.

“I heard that!” She hears Charlotte calling from further down the hall.

****

Gerri eases the door of the bedroom open quietly, slinking in as she sees Roman standing in the middle of the room nodding into the phone.

“Yeah, I know…,” she hears him saying into the phone. “I know, Ken. But what else did you expect,” he offers exasperated.

He looks up to her expectantly as she closes the door quietly, whilst she points to the bathroom silently as he nods his understanding before she tiptoes in.

She takes a quick shower, avoiding her hair, the knowledge that she’s going to have to start the prep herself as soon as possible to pick up the slack from Charlotte’s morning run.

She considers how she’s going to try to talk Roman into staying to meet Maddie; examines whether she’s going to try and convince him at all. She knows Charlotte’s right; is completely aware that Maddie will likely get butt-hurt if she misses out on meeting him after her younger sister has. Maddie has always had a complex that Charlotte was her favourite; had once screamed it at her when she was an angry teenager. She declared herself as Baird’s favourite, whilst Charlotte was Gerri’s favourite. Charlotte had tried to explain to Gerri once that whilst it may not be true, it was what how Maddie had felt; that Baird’s death may have left her feeling more isolated than any of them. Charlotte was simply more like Gerri in personality; well Gerri when she was younger. Whilst Maddie was exactly like her father; though her temper was all Gerri. Maddie being left out of meeting Roman however, was likely just going to perpetuate that whole idea.

She doesn’t, however, feel all that thrilled with the idea convincing Roman into doing something that could bring him further anxiety in an already precarious situation when his emotions were already likely running high.

This train of thought continues as she stands in a towel, looking at herself in the mirror, the condensation clearing, rubbing anti-aging moisturiser into the entirety of her body, finishing with the delicate massage of expensive cream into her face, concentrating on the sides of her eyes.

He comes in with a huff then, opening the door.

“You okay?” She asks looking to his reflection in the mirror, as his whole face seems to be sagging.

He doesn’t say anything, simply wraps his arms around her from behind, buries his head into her neck and closes his eyes, inhaling the scent of her cream.

“Hey,” she offers lightly. “What happened?”

However, he begins kissing her neck instead, his pecks turning more passionate as he runs his tongue across her shoulder line, turning more aggressive as his teeth painfully graze her flesh.

She doesn’t realise she’s frowning as she watches the reflection of his frenzied movements, watching his desperate fondling, listening to his heavy breathing as the overwhelming feeling that something is wrong fills her.

“Roman,” she tries to get his attention firmly, grasping his hand softly to stop him just short of reaching its target between her legs. However, he pulls away from her grasp quickly, insistent on pursuing its destination again as his other hand forcefully presses to her breast through the towel, his teeth sinker deeper into her shoulder.

“Roman,” she tries to raise her voice again to get his attention, to get him to make eye contact with her.

“What?” He whines, “want to thank you for being so good to me.”

His incessant groping and ignoring her was unusual; it had never been like this before and it makes her nervous.

Something was wrong.

“Roman! Stop. Stop,” she directs more authoritatively as she pushes his hands away from her, turning around to face him, her hands going instantly to cradle his jaw as he bows his head embarrassed, breathing raggedly. 

“What’s wrong? What’s happened?” She asks softly, trying to lift his head up, though he fights it, keeping his eyes now firmly to her chest.

“Talk to me,” she tries again, stroking the side of his face.

However, he simply plunges into her, wraps his arms tightly around her, his head buried in her neck as she wraps her arms around him surprised, stroking the back of his neck instead.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” is all he whispers on repeat.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. Tell me what’s happening,” she soothes.

“Was just a bit much,” he whispers. “I don’t want to think about the shit with my dad for a minute. I just want to feel something. Just need a release. I’m sorry.”

She’s beginning to understand, she thinks. He’s upset. Similarly, to how he was in Tern Haven when he dawned her doorstep looking for some kind of pleasurable release to counter the shitty news at dinner. His old go to when he needed to release the pent-up energy he didn’t know how to cope with. However, that was over a year ago and she isn’t going to berate him into an orgasm this time so he feels better. They’d moved beyond that.

“It’s okay. I understand,” she says softly as she continues stroking the back of his head.

“I’ll take care of it myself,” he whispers as he pulls back from her embrace.

“I can’t insult you into it, Rome. I refuse to do that anymore,” she tells him sadly as she keeps her hand on his shoulders. “It’s not good for you and it’s not true.”

She didn’t want to have sex with him. Didn’t think it was appropriate right now in his current state. It would make her like a sex doll in releasing his tension. She didn’t want to be like a prop in his orgasm; call her old school but she saw each time they had sex as a connection, each different in its own way. But what he was looking for now wasn’t that. She knew he needed something good and an orgasm was the only release he related to that. She tries to think of how she can help without having to commit to the act, she knew he would do it himself anyway. She wonders how she can attach a better feeling to it though.

“No, I don’t want you to,” he mumbles, looking at her chest, still unable to meet her eyes.

She thinks of what she can do to help; knows he needs that release, so offers the next best thing.

“Hey, it’s okay,” she smiles gently, pulling his chin up to look at him as he finally meets her eyes. “C’mere.”

She pulls him closer, offering a soft kiss as she pushes his hair back from his face whilst he keeps his hands settled on her waist.

“How about I help you? Hm?” She offers gently.

“Really? You want to?” He asks, his voice trailing off as she realises he means sex.

“No, honey. But it doesn’t mean I can’t help,” she offers with a raised eyebrow, kissing him again before deepening it further, pouring all the love into it she can muster.

He needs affection, love, devotion to make him feel better and that’s what she supposes she can give him.

He loses himself in the kiss as he grasps the towel at her waist tightly.

She guides them so he’s pressed up against the bathroom counter; he perching against its edge as she moves even closer to him, moving her hand from his back down to the front of his jeans.

“Gerri,” he mumbles into her mouth. “You don’t need to do that. You’re getting nothing from it,” he says breathing heavily as he pulls back.

“Don’t worry about me just now. Just relax and listen to me, okay?”

He nods, as she pecks his lips again before quickly undoing his pants, pushing them down quickly as he helps her, his breathing quickening.

“Do you have any idea how much I love you?” She asks him, looking into his eyes as she delicately palms his already hardening erection, trailing her hand up and down slowly.

“No,” he whispers back, his eyes closed tight as he drops his forehead to her shoulder, her breath hot against his ear.

“So fucking much,” she breaths, kissing under his ear as she wraps her hand around him, continues her slow rhythm around his hard on. “You make me laugh. Make me forget everything that’s shit,” she whispers, closing her own eyes as she tries to concentrate on what to tell him to bolster him. “You make me remember I’m not just an old woman who’s past it. Not just a boring fucking filing cabinet.”

“You’re not old,” he groans into her shoulder as he jerks his hips further up into her hand, hoping to encourage her to increase her pace.

“You make me feel like I’m not. You look at me like I’m still twenty-three. Like I’m still young and desirable. You make me feel like I still have my whole life ahead of me. And fuck am I looking forward to spending that with you,” she continues jerking her hand, increasing her pace a little as the precum spilling from him gives more moisture to make her hand flow easier.

“I fucking love you, Gerri. You’re fucking everything I ever wanted,” he groans louder, his tongue running across her neck, as his face burrows into her golden hair.

“I love you, Rome. More than I ever thought I could love anyone. The way you make me feel,” she moans slightly in his ear, her own desire building now.

“Do you have any idea how much I crave you? How often I think of you when you’re not here?” She growls, pecking under his ear.

“Tell me,” he whispers, his kisses hot against her neck.

“Fuck Roman. Sometimes it just overwhelms me. I can be in my office, in the middle of a meeting, then I think of it. Just you deep inside me. Sometimes how you fuck me into oblivion. Sometimes when you’re so loving and tender and go so slowly just wanting to bring me so much pleasure. And I can’t get rid of the thoughts, I ignore my work and sit and plan how I can get you up to my apartment so I can be with you.”

“Do you still touch yourself thinking of me?” He whispers near her ear.

“Yeah, honey. I do. You’re all I think of when I do that,” she moans back as her hand continues its pumping.

“Fuck Gerri. How are you so fucking perfect?” He groans loudly, ceasing his attack on her neck as his hips jerk harder into her hand.

“But it’s not just how you make me feel sexually, though that’s really something. The fun and zest you bring into my life too. I think I’ve smiled more in the past year than I have in my whole life and that’s because of you. And how caring and loving you are towards me. I don’t think I’ve had anyone treat me as tenderly as you have. I don’t think anyone has ever put so much devotion into trying to please me. You’ve made me truly happy,” she whispers further before offering an open-mouthed kiss to his pulse point as her tempo speeds up even faster, his head now falling back with a loud groan as she devours his neck with open mouthed kisses.

“I want to make you so happy, baby. I want to be here for you in every way. I never thought I would want to do that for any man,” she mumbles into his neck as his head spins at her words, at her hand jerking around him, only a moment away from losing his fucking mind.

“You make me so happy,” he moans. “I need you. I want you. In every fucking way.”

She pulls back to look him in the eye, only a breath away, her own breathing ragged as she pushes her pelvis up against his bare high, her towel loosening.

“Kiss me, Ro—,” she whispers as he plunges towards her mouth before his name is out of her mouth; ravaging her, ignoring the pain in his lip, as his tongue passionately wars with hers whilst she gives as good as she gets, his hips moving rapidly against her firm hand. Her other hand grasps the back of his head solidly pushing him harder into her mouth as he tightens his grasp around her waist, his other firmly holding onto the bathroom counter.

He releases so hard, he can see sparkles against his closed eyes, his loud groan barely muffled in her mouth as she steps further to the side to catch any wandering mess with her towel, her hand continuing its rhythm between them until he softens. She pulls away from his mouth, offering a few pecks as he finally opens his eyes, pressing his forehead against hers.

“Do you want me to?” He pants, nodding down to wet her centre pushed hard against his thigh, as she shakes her head.

“Did you mean it? What you said?” He breaths raggedly.

“Absolutely,” she confirms resolutely.

“You didn’t just say it to get me off,” he asks reticently again, closing his eyes as she lets go of him, swiping her spoiled hand against the towel around her, pushing up against him harder as her hand settles on his hip, her thumb caressing there.

“Definitely. Meant every single word. Would swear it on a bible,” she offers trying to calm her own breathing as her other hand continues to push his hair from his face.

“You’ve lied on a bible,” he reminds her, offering a quick peck as he brings his hand from the counter to thread through the hair on the back of her head.

“Okay. Would swear it on my Max Mara loyalty discount card,” she jokes deadpan. “May it be deactivated if I’m lying.”

“Fuck. You were serious,” he offers a small smirk, before kissing her softly again.

“Never forget it. Ever,” she kisses him again, before pulling back and tightening the towel around her again.

“Thank you,” he whispers, looking to her embarrassed. “I’m sorry if I was like… too much before.”

“You stopped when I asked you to. And I’m glad it helped but we need to talk about it now, Rome. I love a hand job as much as the next gal but that’s not the way to cope with whatever you’re feeling,” she offers with a small smile, bringing her hand up to his cheek.

“No, I know,” he offers weakly, looking down again as she lifts his head back up to her eyes immediately.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of. You just needed a release and little reminder of how lucky you are that I adore you,” she jokes. “There’s nothing wrong with that as long as we work through it as well. So why don’t you go for a quick shower and meet me in the bedroom when you’re done so we can talk about it, hmm? I need to start getting ready.”

“Okay,” he smiles softly as she offers a final peck, turning around to turn on the shower for him as he pushes his pants down to the floor.

“And pick your shit up from my floor because I’m not going to do it,” she smiles turning towards the door. “Shout if you need anything,” she says softly before walking out of the bathroom, leaving it ajar.

“What if it’s needing someone to wash my back and fuck rotten up against the shower wall?” He shouts with a smirk.

“Call Greg. He’ll happily oblige,” he hears her shouting back from the bedroom as he laughs loudly.

“But your smaller hands make my tiny dick look so much bigger,” he shouts back.

“Then call Hillary Clinton,” she shouts back.

He laughs at that before getting into the shower.

****

He comes out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, another being aggressively scrubbed against his hair as she watches in the reflection of her vanity mirror, fully dressed now as she puts on the finishing touches of her mascara.

“Bit better?” She asks continuing her strokes on her eyelashes.

“Yeah,” he offers nonchalantly, walking towards her large window drying the back of his neck now with the small towel.

“Good,” she sighs, putting the mascara brush back into the tube as she twists it closed. “Now what happened with Kendall?”

“Geez,” he chuckles looking around to her. “You don’t fuck around, do you?”

“No. I need to go start prepping for lunch. Charlotte went for a run so we’re already going to be behind,” she divulges as she selects small diamond studs from the little box on her vanity.

“Look, don’t worry about it. It was nothing,” he shrugs off, walking back towards the bathroom.

“No,” she drones out, turning in her seat as she begins putting one of the studs into her ear. “We agreed that we had to talk about this.”

“Well you actually ordered me to talk about it,” he laughs, twisting on his heel back towards her from across the room. “I don’t remember agreeing to it,” he plays, trying to delay the inevitable.

She only offers a pointed stare; the look she often gives him when she needs him to be serious, when he’s wasting her time.

“It was nothing, okay,” he huffs, throwing the small towel into the bathroom behind him, before dropping onto his stomach on her bed as she turns back around to retrieve the other stud, beginning to put it in her ear as she twists back around to look at him. “I told him what happened, and he was obviously angry. Offered for me to come stay with him tonight. And then he made me send him a photo of how bad it was.”

She’s kind of happy that Kendall asked him to do that. She had wanted to take a photo of it herself as future evidence of how bad it was in the case he ever considered pressing charges against Logan; though she had yet to find a valid enough reason to obtain a photo.

“What did he say to the photo?” She asks instead of revealing what she had truly thought.

“He was,” Roman begins though he sighs, leaning on his elbows and bowing his head. “He was angry. Sounded like he was nearly crying for fuck sake.”

“Well he’s your brother. He obviously would be. Ken’s always been protective of you. Shiv too,” she reasons, her second stud secured as she leans onto the back of the vanity chair.

“Has he shit!” Roman shouts as he looks up to her with a sceptical expression. “Kendall’s always tried to fuck me over. You saw how it was in Vaulter! In Austria. And he used to be just as bad as my dad when we were kids!”

“That’s when you were kids, Rome. You can tell he regrets it. And business rivalry is different to caring for someone. He’s just as fucked up mentally by your dad as you are.”

“And yet he’s never felt my dad’s back hand,” Roman fires angrily.

“But yet, he’s the one who stepped between you both and defended you in Argestes. It’s not his fault your dad never got physical with him,” she reminds him casually.

“Whose side are you on here?” He accuses her.

“Always yours, Rome.”

Roman sighs again, looking down to the bed sheets as he pressed his forehead against his tightened fists.

“What else did he say?” She encourages when he doesn’t say anything.

“He wants me press charges. Was shouting and rambling. Ripping dad to shreds,” he reveals angrily as though he’s offended at the notion, still not looking up to her.

“Rome? What’s the matter? What aren’t you saying?” She asks, standing up and moving to sit on the edge of the bed near him.

“Nothing,” he blasts out quickly, before turning onto his back to sprawl across the bed, staring up to the ceiling before shutting his eyes with a sigh.

She puffs loudly, trying to be patient with him, climbing further onto the bed to lie perpendicular to him so the crown of his head was almost touching her chest, leaning on her elbow.

“Hey,” she offers softly, trying to get his attention by leaning her head over his; his eyes opening to look up to her hair suspended over his head, her small smile, her soft features, her piercing blue eyes. “Talk to me.”

“I don’t know what to say,” he tells her quietly, reaching his arm above his head so his hand can wrap around her neck, bringing her forehead to rest against his, her hand pushing her hair behind her ears quickly.

“Are you starting to have second thoughts about your dad?” She whispers, her hand running from his shoulder down his arm to the inside of his elbow.

“Fuck no,” he refutes strongly as she pushes up away from him, the angle straining down her back.

“Then what? You don’t want to press charges?” She asks again.

“I don’t know. No. I don’t think so. I know what he did was fucked up but that seems a bit extreme,” he reasons, his hand trailing down to her collar bone, running his fingers across her light pastel blue top across her shoulder.

“Beating you up was extreme, Rome. Not you pressing charges against him for it,” she reveals firmly.

“Yeah but pressing fucking charges,” he sighs. “He’s still my fucking dad.”

“All the more reason it’s unacceptable,” she hits back.

“Yeah but that’s like an ultimate betrayal, Gerri.”

“So is beating your son to a pulp.”

“So, what?” He asks angrily, sitting up to look around to her. “You think I should press charges? You think I should plaster it everywhere. A big fucking public trial. End up in every newspaper in the country,” he continues as his voice raises.

“Calm down, Rome,” she tries to soothe, though she can feel her patience waning the more he shouts at her, but he ignores her.

“Roman Roy physically abused by his own father like the snivelling little worm he fucking is!” He shouts running his hand across the air as though reading out a headline. “Because that’s what they will say Gerri. It will be everywhere. Everyone will judge me. Everyone.”

“No one would judge you, Roman,” she tells him softly, watching as he springs off the bed to begin moving around much to her surprise.

“Jesus, Gerri. So fucking help me, if you call me a survivor next, I’m gonna—,” he shouts as he paces around the bed.

“You’ll what?” She fires at him angrily, not taking very well to the threat that seems to be about to leave his lips. She hadn’t ever entertained threats from Baird; there was no fucking way she would from him either. “What will you do?”

“I’ll fucking—,” he starts again before she cuts him off again.

“Shout? Scream? Cry? Throw something? Hurt me? Leave me?” She asks with her brow furrowed, though her tone is nothing but challenging.

“What?” He breathes, stops in his tracks, looks to her as though he’s unbelievably wounded. “I would never leave you. And hurt you? Why would I hurt you? I was going to say lose my mind.”

She continues to look at him, unsure what to say; had simply reacted instinctively as she used to when Baird had thrown threats at her. The verbals blows they could sometimes hit each other with, the threats of walking away and divorcing instantly coming to her mind. The things that all people in marriages likely did; hurting one another when they were angry.

“You really think I’d hurt you? Hurt you like he hurt me?” He asks quietly, looking to her expectantly.

“No,” she refutes immediately, sitting up on the bed. “I didn’t mean physically. I meant insult me or argue with me or something. Not that. God no.”

“You sure about that?” He disputes, his pitch raising as he never takes his eyes off her.

She pushes to the edge of the bed, trying to beckon him closer but he doesn’t move.

“Honey, I know you wouldn’t hurt me like that. If you ever hurt me, it would be with your words. Likely out of anger. Couples in relationships often say things that hurt the other even though they don’t mean it.”

“Maybe I’m like him, Gerri,” he wonders childishly. “I have his genes. I’m his kid. Who knows what I’m capable of?”

“You’re nothing like him, Roman. You’re not,” she tells him resolutely as she stares at him.

“How do _you_ know that?”

“Because I know you and I know your dad. Do you _honestly_ think you’re like him?”

“I don’t fucking know,” he looks down to the floor, taking a deep breath.

“Do you really think you would hit me? Seriously?” She confronts frustrated.

“No!” He opposes immediately. “Fuck no. I would never do anything like that… ever!”

“And would you ever deliberately hurt me? Think about it. Really hurt me?”

“No,” he sighs. “I don’t want to ever hurt you. Not even accidentally.”

“Isn’t that proof enough? Your dad was a conniving, abhorrent man. He deliberately hurt people so he could feel better about himself. He physically and mentally wounded you and you would never do that to anyone. You know that,” she reasons, reaching out her hand to him again as he silently takes it.

She brings the back of his hand to her lips, offering a peck there.

“Don’t you ever listen to me?” She offers a small laugh. “You’re a sweet, loving, kind person. Your dad was none of those things. His one drive was to benefit himself; no one else.”

He stays silent for a moment as she squeezes his hand, rubbing her thumb across the back of it.

“Do you think I should press charges?” He asks her lightly before sitting down next to her, putting his other hand on top of hers.

“I think that’s your choice, honey. If it were anyone else in front of me, I would absolutely tell them to press charges because I don’t think anyone should get away with that. With you? I would encourage the exact same thing because I want him to suffer for what’s he’s done to you. I don’t think you have anything to embarrassed about. I think all the shame lies with him. However, I don’t want you to hurt any more than you already are. So, I think you should have a think about it for a while. Figure out what you want to do and I’ll be here with you every step of the way to help you come to whatever conclusion you come to, and I’ll be here to support whatever decision you make in the aftermath.”

He lies back on the bed as she looks down to him, her hand going with him as he pulls it up to his lips, her ring grazing back and forth along them.

“I’ll think about it,” he decides. “I just don’t like being pushed into shit. Kendall just wouldn’t shut the fuck up. It like jumbled everything up in my head and I couldn’t get it to stop.”

“I know. You’re a grown man and you need to make your own decisions that are best for you.”

“Why does everything always have to be so fucking shit,” he puffs, looking around to her as she raises an eyebrow at him. “Not you. You’re good. The one shining light in this whole fuck up.”

“I think we’ve just had a bad run. That I won’t deny,” she sighs, looking down to her lap as he remains silent for a minute or two.

“Do you think it went well with Charlotte?” He asks, as she looks around to him, his eyes filled with worry. “I didn’t fuck it up, did I?”

“Not at all,” she smiles. “I think it was as good as it could have gone. I think she likes you and I think both of you thoroughly enjoyed ganging up on me,” she smirks, as he kisses her fingers.

“Not our fault you’re a blue,” he jests, pulling her down to lie next to him as she obliges. “I had to work with what I had. And apparently, that was messing with you,” he laughs as he wraps an arm around her back as she slowly lowers herself.

“And Hillary Clinton? I look nothing like her, though thank you for telling my daughter I’m hot. I’m sure it’s exactly what she wanted to hear,” she laughs, leaning on his chest, her head hovering close to his as she trails her finger tip along his lips, trying to be more tender with his swollen part.

“Hey man, I told her that I prefer to be straight up. That’s as straight up as they come. You are hot. And I don’t know why you’d be offended about Hillary Clinton,” he plays, darting the tip of his tongue out to her fingertip.

“I’m not offended. It’s just inaccurate,” she smiles.

“Maybe it’s the hair and the head bitch in charge, lawyery, no nonsense shit,” he smiles, biting at her finger gently.

“Maybe you should take up with her,” she raises an eyebrow teasingly as he releases her finger, her fingers trailing down to his chin and jawline now. “She’s a bit older than me but I’m sure that’ll be an even bigger turn on for you.”

“Sounds like a lot of work when I could just settle for her doppelgänger,” he shrugs.

“Settle?” She asks pointedly, ceasing her caresses. “Wouldn’t want you to settle. Maybe we should just call off the whole interview on Tuesday and I can see what contacts I have in DC to set you both up. I’m sure Bill won’t mind. Would free him up for capture,” she challenges.

“Bill Clinton? You don’t know where his dick has been,” he opposes disgusted. “You like Bill Clinton?”

“Mmm, I’m sure he would grow on me,” she teases. “Could do a wife swap. I’m sure both of you wouldn’t notice since Hillary and I are so similar,” she giggles, her hand trailing down his chest now.

However, he grins like Cheshire cat, much to her confusion.

“What? You thinking of all the ways you can fuck her?” She teases, though she can feel a little jealousy creep in.

“You said _wife_ swap,” he grins wider, running his hand down her back.

“Did I?” She asks nonchalantly, absolutely aware that’s what she said.

“Yes. You did. You my wifey now?” He laughs, pushing up so he can roll over on top of her.

“Considering there is no marriage certificate that would be a no. I merely meant that Hillary is Bill’s wife,” she tries to back track as he leans over her, his lips pecking hers smugly.

“Nah. You said wife SWAP, suggesting two wives would need to swap. Bill’s wife and my wife,” he laughs again, watching the rolling of her eyes.

“I misspoke,” she deadpans.

“Mmm, the old Freudian slip,” he wags his eyebrows. “You want to be my wife, Kellman.”

“Mmm, I don’t know about that,” she offers back with a small smile.

“You want to be a Roy,” he teases again, kissing across her jawline to her pulse point, however, she bursts out laughing at that.

“Being a Roy is absolutely the last thing I want to be. I can assure you that if I ever marry you, I will not categorically absolutely in no fucking way be Gerri Roy,” she laughs, her fingers running through the hair at the back of his head as she pushes him further into her neck.

“If I ever marry you, she says,” he laughs into her neck. “Sounds like someone’s considering it.”

“Maybe,” she smiles, pulling his head away from her neck so she could look him in the eye. “Not now though, okay?” She tells him seriously.

“Why not?” He asks sadly.

“We’re not there yet. We’re trialling moving in and with everything else going on, we have enough to be getting on with, okay?” She pecks his lips to show it’s not a rejection, just her being the more mature of them both.

“Yeah, okay,” he whispers, pecking her lips back.

“Plus, we couldn’t announce an engagement after telling the board this relationship just became serious, even if we wanted to. Just be patient. It’s not a no and I’m not going anywhere, okay Rockstar?”

“I haven’t even asked you. You sound like the desperate one here. That’s twice you’ve brought it up. Seems like you’re trying to pin down America’s most eligible bachelor and it won’t work lady,” he smiles, giving her a deeper kiss now, running his hands down her body to begin pushing her shirt up at its hem.

“No, no, no,” she laughs, protesting as she grabs his hand and tries to push him off her.

“What? You didn’t get anything from before and I know you wanted some relief. I had to wipe the evidence off my thigh in the shower,” he mumbles into her pulse point as she grins wider.

“I have a lunch to prep. Charlotte will be back from her run soon and will wonder why I haven’t started anything,” she reasons as she finally pushes him off her, offering a quick peck before standing up to look in the mirror and right herself. “Are you staying? For lunch?” She asks reticently as tries to comb through her hair with her fingers.

“Oh uhm… I don’t know. Didn’t you say Maddie was the one that was pissier about it all?” He asks awkwardly, sitting up properly to look at her as she looks at him in the reflection.

“She is a little higher strung about the idea, but she was fine about it yesterday. Told me to come and see you when the news article hit. I don’t think it’s going to be as bad as you think. But I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable,” she says softly, turning around to face him.

“I just like, don’t want to ruin your Easter. Charlotte seemed like open to it. She’s the one who invited me. But like Maddie might need time to adjust so it’s a bit easier when it does happen. Then there’s my face,” he gestures up to his bruised, swollen form. “I don’t want her to judge me for it.”

“Well, it’s up to you. Charlotte is calling her to see how she would feel about it in case you did want to stay. One thing she did say which does have an element of truth to it is that Maddie might get a bit jealous that Charlotte has met you, and she hasn’t. Fear of missing out or something, especially since Maddie already holds a bit of jealousy there. She thinks Charlotte’s my favourite, so if anything, I think she would be okay with you coming, if that’s what’s holding you back. I just don’t want you to do it because they’re okay with it, if it’s too much, too soon for you,” she reasons, walking closer to him.

“I mean, it’s nerve wracking sure, but it’s going to happen at some point. And I get the whole FOMO thing, especially if she’s already got some shit going on with being left out. I don’t care,” he shrugs. “Whatever she prefers. As long as she doesn’t think I’m some fucking asshole because my face is like the Elephant Man.”

“You don’t look like the fucking Elephant Man,” she laughs, moving closer to him to caress his swollen face. “And thank you. For being so open to all this. It can’t be easy when you’re already struggling.”

“It distracts me from my own shit,” he smiles, bringing his hands up to her hips, moving to kiss her stomach. “Just a step closer to us being fully official.”

She doesn’t know what to say, is taken by his sensitivity, by his strength, by his ability to put other people’s shit before his own. She’s unbelievably impressed by his growth; by his maturity. Even sitting here with a beaten face, his heart likely breaking, he’s still the sensitive, giving person she’s discovered.

She bends down to kiss his head, pulling him in for a hug as he wraps his arms around her waist.

She pulls back after a minute or so, grasping his chin and bending to peck his lips before she pulls away.

“I really need to go start this prep,” she says moving to slip on her shoes.

“Okay, uhm… I’m gonna get dressed. I’d offer to help cook but I’m probably worse than you are,” he laughs.

“I’m not that fucking bad,” she protests, laughing as she gets her second shoe on.

“I’ll be the judge of that… maybe… let me know as soon as you know if she’s okay with me staying. I’ll head to Kendall’s house after if she is,” he smiles. 

“You don’t need to run away immediately after,” she says with her hand on the door handle.

“It’s your holiday. I’m just a guest. Best I stay with Ken tonight anyway. Give you some time with them,” he smiles.

“Whatever you want to do. Feel free to do whatever while we’re cooking by the way. You can take a nap, or watch TV, or come sit with us in the kitchen. Whatever you prefer,” she says as she pulls the door open.

“Okay, babe,” he smiles as he stands up, whilst she looks at him as she moves to close the door behind her, gasping as he flashes her his goods as he readjusts his towel.

“You’re lucky Charlotte's out for a run you little shit,” she laughs.

“I certainly am lucky,” he laughs, walking to the bathroom as she closes the door firmly with a smirk shaking her head.


	7. Easter Sunday Lunch

When he emerges, he passes by the kitchen, already hearing Charlotte shouting at Gerri.

“No. For fuck sake. Who taught you how to chop a damn carrot?!” He hears more shuffling before she shouts again. “Like this… you see… it’s a rhythm.”

He can’t help but chuckle, choosing instead to make his way into Gerri’s living room, pouring himself a scotch before moving to her large window as he looks out to see a few people traipsing down the street in bright coloured hats, shouting and cheering with big grins on their faces as they clearly make their way towards the Fifth Avenue parade.

He makes his way to the boomer TV, switching through channels before settling on _Easter Parade_ as he half watches Judy Garland singing with Fred Astaire before they enter a dance number. Gerri only pops her head in briefly to tell him that Maddie is okay with his being here as he tries to let his nerves settle, continuing to watch the movie when she goes back into the kitchen.

It’s not long before he hears more raised voices coming from the kitchen, standing up to move towards it so he can listen in; it likely more interesting than this movie.

“How could you forget the pancetta and the parsley? Like it’s the main ingredients!” Charlotte shouts.

“It has to be here somewhere. I ordered everything on the list you gave me, but I didn’t take the delivery. Maria did,” Gerri reasons loudly as he hears cupboards slamming.

“Don’t blame Maria. It would be in the fucking fridge if you’d ordered it,” Charlotte claps back as he slides in through the kitchen door, pressing himself against the wall, watching Charlotte standing with a flushed face next to her mother who is opening drawers in the fridge frantically.

“Calm down Gordon Ramsay!” Gerri shouts in response. “It’ll be here!”

“The lamb has to go in the oven! It needs to be cooked for two and a half hours!”

“Okay. Then I’ll call someone to deliver some!” Gerri turns around flustered, finally spotting him as she offers an exasperated greeting.

“Hi,” she huffs.

Charlotte swings around to see him.

“Geraldine forgot the pancetta and the parsley,” Charlotte tells him with an exasperated huff, throwing her hand up towards her mother.

“I did NOT forget,” Gerri rolls her eyes, picking up a glass of wine and taking a huge gulp. “Give me strength,” she whispers under her breath after she swallows.

“Do you need that?” He asks confused.

“Yes. Yes, I do!” Charlotte tells him resolutely. “I’ll run out and get it. It won’t be here quick enough if you get it delivered. This has to go in the oven. I should have checked last night. Rookie mistake on my part,” Charlotte tuts, moving the lamb back into the fridge.

“I was going to run down to the store anyway to get some stuff, I can grab it when I’m down there?” Roman offers as he watches Charlotte aggressively taking her apron off.

“You won’t know what to get. It’s quicker if I just come with you. We’ll need to go to the deli for the pancetta as well,” Charlotte declares storming out of the kitchen. “Get your coat. I’ll just be a sec,” she orders him, already in the hallway.

He looks around to Gerri with wide eyes, a nervous laugh forming as she drains the rest of her wine glass.

“Fun time cooking?” He asks with a laugh.

“That child is not mine. There must have been a mix up at birth,” she declares picking up the chopped vegetables to throw into a pot of cold water.

“What if I were to tell you that she’s your double,” he laughs.

“I would tell you to take your bag on the way to the store and not come back,” she declares with a sarcastic look, as he clutches his chest dramatically.

“Such threats on the day of our saviour’s resurrection,” he laughs mock offended, moving closer to the island directly across from her, watching as she lifts more vegetables into the pot.

“You sure you’re okay going to the store with her? She’s on one today,” she asks softly, resting her hands on each side of the pot after dropping the vegetables in to look up to him.

“Yeah. We’ll be fine. Do you need anything?” He smiles, leaning over the marble, stretching his legs out.

She smirks, turning around to pick up a nearly empty bottle of wine, before turning around to him and tapping the glass bottle with her nail.

“More of this. I only have eight bottles. I don’t think it’s going to be enough to handle my youngest spawn,” she jokes as she puts the bottle down onto the counter, whilst he laughs again, slinking around the side of the island next to her.

“It can’t be that bad,” he smiles, placing a hand on her hip, moving to play with the strings of his favourite little blue apron he’s only seen her wear that one time before at Christmas.

“Then how about you come in here and cook with her and I go and relax on the couch with my wine,” she challenges with a quirked eyebrow, turning around to face him.

“No thanks,” he smiles, moving in to peck her lips.

“ROMAN! GET A MOVE ON!” He hears Charlotte shout from the hallway as he moves in for a second peck.

“Congratulations. She’s accepted you enough to scream at you,” Gerri smiles at him, tapping his shoulder. “You better go before she takes you at knife point.”

“Be back soon,” he smiles, offering a final peck and letting her go. “Coming!” He shouts as he half runs to the front door.

****

They’re pacing down the street, Roman only just keeping up with her as she strides like a woman on a mission.

“So, what do you guys usually do for Easter? All the classic Eastery shit?” He asks as he follows her lead around a corner.

“Nah. Just the lunch really. It was better when we were kids. Though they used to make us go to church then; when my grandmother was alive. Dad’s mom. She was a devout Christian. She would visit every Easter to see the parade because we would go to her for Christmas. Mom and dad aren’t very religious though, so we stopped when she died. But at least then after the services we came home to like Easter bunnies and mom would have little egg hunts for us. No matter how much she worked, she was always there for Easter and always made up the hunt for us. She was good at stuff like that. Used to make us treasure hunts from time to time with little clues hidden all over the house for us to wake up to. She wanted us to still be kids,” Charlotte tells him with a smile, slowing her stride down a little.

“You don’t do the egg hunt now?” He asks tentatively.

“Nah. We grew up and got too old for that,” she laughs.

“You don’t even paint the eggs? When I was in England as a kid, we painted eggs every year. But not like here when you just paint it a full colour; you like made them into little people. Little characters. And you didn’t hide them for people to find. You just admired them and then rolled them down a hill. I used to always jump on my sister, Shiv’s,” he smiles, slowing his pace down to match hers.

“Growing up in England sounds neat.”

“Wasn’t as exciting as you would think.”

“So, you guys don’t do that anymore then?”

“Nah. My dad wasn’t really for that kind of thing. We just had this one au pair who did it in England and then after she died we demanded it every year until dad started complaining how we were being immature doing it. We’ve done Easter with him every year since the divorce when we were shipped back here. Should try bring it back though,” he smiles sadly as she looks around to him with a furrowed brow.

“Fuck it,” she smiles. “Let’s see if we can get paint shit here and we’ll do it. It sounds fun. I’ll paint one of mom in an apron to mess with her,” she laughs.

“Really?” He raises his eyebrows in surprise.

“Yeah. Why the fuck not?” She shrugs. “You and me are clearly going to be the fun ones of the day, though Ryan will likely play along.”

“Is Maddie actually okay with me being there?” He asks reticently.

“Yeah. Maddie’s fine. When you realise she’s a big fucking marshmallow inside it’s easier to look past the angry bullshit. She just takes time to warm up to people. Don’t be offended if she’s relatively quiet with you. She does it with everyone. When she gets more comfortable, she lightens up,” Charlotte assures him as they enter the large market, whilst he ruminates her words in his head.

“Okay,” she sighs, picking up a basket. “Parsley,” she huffs, looking around. “What is it you’re here for?”

“Ehm… I don’t know. Was just going to buy shit,” he shrugs, pulling a face. “I feel like spending money so don’t hold back. Get whatever you want. It’s on me. I’m the guest and I’ve contributed fuck all to the dinner so yeah. Let’s go wild. One thing we need to do is get your mom wine. Maybe we can get her a good champagne instead.”

“You’re sure?” She laughs, excited at the prospect.

“Yeah. Fuck it. Paint and eggs too. We can do a supermarket sweep,” he smiles.

“Anything I want you say, hmm. Maybe I’ll take you by Chanel as well,” she eyes him with a smirk as he laughs. “Let’s fucking go then,” she laughs, leading the way down the aisle.

****

Gerri is standing in the living room, having just handed a glass of wine to Maddie, a scotch to Ryan when she hears Roman and Charlotte burst through the front door.

She’s surprised and delighted to hear laughter considering the mood Charlotte had left in, noting Maddie’s grimace as she strains to listen to the commotion in the hallway.

“And then I like comedy sketch tumbled down the whole flight of stairs,” she hears Charlotte shouting to him through laughter.

“Fuck off!” He shouts, laughing in response.

“No, I’m not kidding. Like fully crumbled up in a mangled heap at the bottom. Maddie was at the top of the flight of stairs hysterically laughing with Hannah. All I heard was my dad’s footsteps and I jumped right up,” she laughs even harder, as Gerri opens the door to see them both standing with two full bags of groceries each; Roman holding a bunch of flowers too. “I was leaning against the bottom of the stairs casually, trying to pretend like I wasn’t completely fucking drunk; trying to act natural. He didn’t even suspect a thing, was just like _I heard a thumping_ ,” she explains through her splutters as Roman laughs heartily.

“Hey,” Gerri offers gently with a smile as she watches them, leaning on the door frame. “What the fuck did you buy?” She laughs a little. “There’s only five of us.”

“We bought loads of shit! Went on a shopping spree. Your guy here knows how to spend,” Charlotte laughs, looking to Roman who’s grinning widely.

“That he does,” Gerri furrows her eyebrows, looking down at the bags.

“He said something about buying my apartment outright for me as a gift,” Charlotte shrugs nonchalantly.

“Like fuck I did,” he laughs, looking around to her.

“Tell me you didn’t,” Gerri laughs exasperated.

“I’m pretty sure you said that. I heard someone say that,” Charlotte jokes.

“Maybe the little voice in your head,” he laughs, walking towards Gerri brandishing a large bouquet of white roses as she smiles looking at them. “For you.”

“You shouldn’t have,” Gerri smiles a little embarrassed as she catches Charlotte rolling her eyes over his shoulder.

“You better fucking like them,” Charlotte booms, dropping the bags to the floor to pull her boots off. “He made us stop at the fucking florist for them.”

He offers a quirking of his eyebrows as he gives her his most smouldering smirk, whilst she takes them from his hands.

“Apparently you’re supposed to get white lilies for Easter, but they were ugly as fuck,” he smiles as Gerri brings them to her nose, inhaling them with a large grin.

_She can’t remember the last time someone bought her flowers._

“No, seriously,” Charlotte puffs behind him, pulling off a boot. “They were fucking rancid. Wilting and shit.”

“And I remember you saying how much you love roses,” he smiles, taking her hand and kissing it.

“I do. They’re beautiful,” Gerri smiles wider. “Thank you,” she offers gently, still a little embarrassed.

She is about to lean in to peck his lips at the beautiful gesture, however, she’s hyper aware of Charlotte warring with her footwear behind him, and Maddie listening intently from the doorway behind them, so simply offers a gentle caress of the back of his hand with her thumb instead.

“We got loads of stuff,” he smiles, dropping her hand and instead opening one of the bags, as Gerri peaks inside.

“Paint?” Gerri laughs exasperated, looking up to him confused as Charlotte laughs behind him, puffing as she walks towards the kitchen with the bags.

“Yeah! We’re going to paint eggs! Roman was saying how he used to paint them as little characters in England. Why didn’t we do that?” She asks pushing the door to the kitchen open.

“I don’t know,” Gerri looks into the bag again as he continues smiling watching only her facial expression, his eyes glazing over with mirth. “Wait a minute you!” She shouts to Charlotte. “Maddie and Ryan are here.”

Roman feels his face completely drop, adrenaline rushing through him as Gerri meets her eyes.

“Oh yeah?” Charlotte pants. “Where is she? The mighty sister?” She asks dramatically with a small laugh.

“In the living room,” Gerri gestures behind her with a turning of her head, perching the large bouquet at her hip.

“Cool,” Charlotte offers. “WE’LL BE IN IN A MINUTE!” She shouts loudly as she gestures for Roman to follow her. “Come dump that shit first,” she nods to the bags as he drops the bags lower to take their weight, looking down to the floor as he makes his way dutifully into the kitchen.

Gerri’s nervous to see that instant change in him after his clear excitement with Charlotte.

However, she tries not to let it worry her too much as turns around to move back into the living room.

“Roses,” Gerri smiles bashfully, licking her lips as she holds them up as though they aren’t fucking obvious, whilst Ryan smiles widely. “Beautiful, aren’t they?”

“Charming,” Maddie offers deadpan, taking a sip of her wine.

“They must have bought the whole store. Bought eggs and paint to decorate them,” she chuckles a little, leaning her hip against the armchair, awkwardly fiddling with the flowers, holding them up to her nose with a grin as she smells them again.

“I heard,” Maddie deadpans, looking around to Ryan.

“Sweet,” Ryan smiles. “I used to do that when I was a kid.”

“So did we,” Gerri offers an awkward chuckle. “Used to hide the eggs around the house for the girls to find.”

When she hears them approaching, she turns around to see Charlotte leading the way, bouncing in as Roman follows her reticently.

“What up losers,” Charlotte offers before plonking into the armchair Gerri is standing next to.

“Roman,” Gerri takes the lead as he stops next to her, his hands in his pockets, standing awkwardly, a light smile on his lips. “This is Maddie and her husband Ryan.”

Maddie isn’t what he had expected. On the surface, seems to be the antithesis of her sister and mother; dark brown straight hair chopped up to her shoulders, dressed more professionally with high heels, a face like thunder as she grips her wine glass. Though on closer inspection, her blue eyes are all Gerri, similar facial features to her too if you stuck a blonde wig and glasses on her. Her husband isn’t what he expected either: a dark-haired built guy with a kind looking face; looking like a big child if he were honest, not really intimidating at all. They didn’t really look like a match; he looked so welcoming whilst Maddie looked so stand offish, but then again, did he and Gerri look like a match? Fuck no.

“Hiya,” Roman offers awkwardly, accompanied by a small wave.

“Hello,” Maddie offers, her eyes clearly doing to him exactly what he just had to them; the focus on his beaten-up face.

“Hey,” Ryan offers enthusiastically, standing up and stepping over Maddie’s legs to offer a handshake. “Great to meet you.”

“You too man,” Roman smiles, easing up a little as he shakes the guys hand firmly. “You too,” he mumbles as he watches Ryan sit back down on the couch, taking a sip of his scotch.

There is a moment of silence as everyone looks around awkwardly; Gerri feeling like she should step in before she’s beaten to it.

“We bought eggs to paint,” Charlotte pipes up to fill it. “We haven’t done that in like fifteen years have we, Mad?”

“No, we haven’t,” she offers quietly as she takes a sip of her wine, looking towards her sister.

“Roman was telling me that in England they paint little people on it. Think that would be more fun than just painting them all one colour,” Charlotte offers again. “Obviously, mine will be the best since I’m the art _ist_ in this family.”

“You’re not hiding eggs around my apartment,” Gerri laughs, moving her proximity closer to Roman, turning around to him to attempt to include him. “Knowing my luck, you’ll forget one and it will stink the place out. Poor Maria will end up driving herself crazy looking for it.”

“Like at the Summer Palace with the raccoon with dad,” Roman laughs a little as Gerri looks around to him, happy that he’s chimed in.

“Yeah,” she breathes a laugh. “Remember that? That was the worst thing I’ve ever smelled in my life.”

Roman looks around to everyone; taking in Charlotte's interested smile, Ryan’s patient expectation for an explanation, and Maddie’s grimace.

“We had to go to my dad’s house in the Hamptons last year and there was like a god awful, foul smell, like it was horrendous, wasn’t it, Gerri?” He looks to her nodding.

“Disgusting,” she confirms with a frown.

“Yeah, so we were in Japan and went straight there from the airport. We were fucking exhausted and I’d been looking forward to a nap the whole time but when I got there, I couldn’t even stand to be in the house the stench was so bad; ended up going out a walk it was that bad. But they spent hours trying to find the source and it turns out it was a dead raccoon that was stuffed up the chimney. My dad was so livid that he forced the staff to throw out all the food and we had to order pizza instead,” he laughs a little as Gerri joins him. “Apparently, my dad underpaid this contractor who was working on renovations in the house and he put the raccoon up there in spite to let it rot and stink the house out. It was fucking crazy,” Roman laughs, finishing off his quickly rabbled anecdote with a gulp.

“That’s fucking hilarious,” Charlotte laughs. “Imagine being so petty that you’d take the time to stick a dead raccoon up a chimney because you’re so fucked off. Kudos to the guy for creativity.”

“Yeah, like, was it alive before it went up there?” Ryan asks interested as Maddie looks a little unimpressed.

“I dunno, man. Could have been,” Roman shrugs as he looks around to Gerri, unsure what to do now.

“I hope not,” Gerri offers laughing as she strokes Roman’s arm.

There is a small lull again, as Maddie offers the raising of her eyebrows before taking a sip of her wine again.

“We’re not hiding them anyway,” Charlotte pipes up. “The eggs. Apparently, you don’t do that in England,” she offers the best English accent she can muster. “You just appreciate them and roll them down a hill.”

“I’m not going out to find a hill,” Maddie states firmly.

“We’ll just throw them out the window at passers-by,” Charlotte offers deadpan as Roman starts laughing; something he would definitely suggest.

“No, you will fucking not,” Gerri admonishes.

“Would you lighten up?!” Charlotte huffs. “I was kidding.”

“You just paint them for something to do, I think. Me and my brother and sister would end up just throwing half of them at each other which of course we will not engage in on this occasion,” he laughs again, as Ryan offers a small laugh, the room falling dead again.

“Uhm… I’m going to go put these in water,” Gerri offers up, looking down at the bouquet. “Are you going to come show me what you spent a small fortune on?” She asks Roman expectantly when she turns towards him.

“Yeah,” he sighs slowly. “Yeah sure.”

“Charlotte are you coming to prepare this lamb since you spent so long bitching about how long it takes to cook?” Gerri sniggers as they begin to walk out the door.

“Yeah. Be in in a minute,” she calls as she looks back to Maddie with narrowed eyes.

“These really are beautiful, Rome,” they hear Gerri’s soft lilt praising him from the hallway outside the door.

“Not as beautiful as you, babe,” they hear him respond before the kitchen door closes behind them, whilst Maddie groans, rolling her eyes back in her head as her head hits the back of the couch.

“Babe,” Maddie repeats with a groan, a shiver running down her whole body in disgust.

“So, clearly you love him,” Charlotte offers sarcastically, leaning her elbows onto her knees.

“Well, come on,” Maddie scoffs. “Look at him. He’s clearly fucking immature. He’s nothing like mom,” she throws a hand up to the door.

“He seems okay,” Ryan mumbles into his glass.

“I can see why you like him though,” Maddie fires towards Charlotte.

“Why? Because he’s fun?” She offers with a raised eyebrow.

“Fun? He’s a fucking child. A dead racoon story? Come on,” Maddie mocks.

“Are you trying to suggest _I’m_ a fucking child?” Charlotte bites frustrated.

“If the shoe fits,” Maddie shrugs, taking a sip of her wine.

“Maddie, stop being a judgmental little bitch,” Charlotte sneers.

“Who the fuck are you calling a little bit—” Maddie pipes up angrily.

“Come on,” Ryan interjects, holding his hands up. “Keep your voices down or they’ll hear you. Let’s not start getting personal man. It’s Easter.”

“Listen,” Charlotte begins angrily, completely ignoring Ryan. “Just because you’re upset with the whole prospect of this, doesn’t mean you need to start attacking me,” Charlotte warns pointing a finger at her.

“I can’t believe you’re okay with this,” Maddie sighs with another wry laugh.

“Why shouldn’t I be? You’d see he’s a nice guy if you would just break down your barrier and give him a chance.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Maddie sits up angrily. “Look at him. And you underplayed his fucking face by the way.”

“So, what? You’re going to judge him now for his dad physically abusing him?” Charlotte challenges her angrily.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Then what are you saying? Yeah, he’s pretty fucking beaten up and he’s clearly struggling with it. Have some fucking empathy, Maddie. Jesus.”

“I do have fucking empathy. It’s shit what happened to him but that doesn’t negate that he’s obviously a fucking man child! How could she go from dad to that? It’s two completely different fucking worlds.”

“Is that what this is about?” Charlotte asks quietly as she sits back, studying her. “Is this about Roman or dad?”

“It’s about mom clearly having a fucking mid-life crisis! She can’t be thinking straight. What other reason would she be fucking around with this guy?”

“Maybe he makes her happy? Maybe she hasn’t had that in a long time? She’s been alone for five years, Maddie. How would you feel having someone for most of your life and then being completely alone? Not forgetting the way dad treated her for so many years. You heard her the other night,” Charlotte argues as she flails her hands in the air towards the door.

“She’s been on dates before. We know that! She’s not lived like a fucking nun. Why this one? Why’s this the first guy she’s introduced us to? He’s wrong for her. She was happy alone,” Maddie fights back again.

“She was _fine_ alone, so it’s not like she’s using him as a crutch because she needs someone. If anything, that proves that he must be an addition in her life. But I think you’re wrong when you say she was happy alone. I think she functioned, but happy? Actually happy? Have you ever seen a genuine smile from mom like that before? She’s literally beaming over a bunch of fucking flowers.”

“So, she’s infatuated. Fine. That I get. But this can’t be fucking long term?”

“I don’t think this is about mom or Roman,” Charlotte analyses. “This is about dad. That’s understandable Maddie. I know you miss him. I miss him too. And from everything we heard about dad the other night, it’s a lot to process. But what do you expect mom to do? Be alone forever? She’s human with feelings. She’s still got a lot of years ahead of her. She deserves to be happy.”

“I just don’t get it. I don’t get it at all,” Maddie shakes her head, leaning back on the couch.

“He obviously makes her happy, and he’s genuine, Mads. He fucking adores her. You should have seen him in the flower shop. He was so excited to get her that bouquet. He kept talking about how much she loves roses. He made us walk three fucking blocks to get them. That’s not someone who doesn’t give a shit.”

Maddie remains silent as Ryan darts his eyes towards her, awkwardly standing to refill his glass.

“Look, he’s not dad,” Charlotte sighs. “You’re completely right. But he’s not trying to be dad. I think that’s the last thing he wants to be. You can hold onto this resentment with mom your whole life if you want but it’s going to eat you alive. You know you want mom to be just as happy as I do. And you feel guilty, right? Like a fucking kid? Like a little fucking brat, spitting the dummy out because it feels like such a betrayal. Even though you and I know you want her to be happy, I bet that this still just doesn’t feel right to you. It feels wrong.”

“Nail on the head,” Ryan pipes up when Maddie remains silent.

“Shut up, Ryan,” Maddie fires over her shoulder.

“That’s normal, Maddie,” Charlotte tries to soothe. “You’ll adjust to that feeling. When one of your parents die and the other starts dating, it’s completely normal to feel like they are betraying the dead parent,” she continues before Maddie interrupts her.

“Save me your psychiatric bullshit, Charlotte.”

“It’s not bullshit. It’s fucking facts. Everyone deals with this shit in their own way. I don’t happen to give a fuck because I want mom to be happy. You need to consider how happy mom is; how light she seems to be now. I think this is a good thing, Mads,” Charlotte offers with a lopsided smile.

“And dad wouldn’t have been a good thing? She wasn’t happy with dad?” Maddie challenges venomously.

“I’m not saying that. I’m saying that we’ll never know. It could have gone any way if dad hadn’t died. Mom could have slowed down or maybe retired and they could have lived happily ever after, or they could have been even more strained. Maybe them being forced to actually spend a lot of time together might have ruined them. They barely spent any time together when he was alive. Or dad might have left mom and divorced her for the bit on the side. Have you ever considered that?” Charlotte confronts gently, never taking her eyes off Maddie, as she watches her chewing her lip thinking. “Think about how heartbroken mom probably was as her husband slept around and then had a long-term affair? Consider that mom and dad might actually been better apart. Would you be acting this way if dad had fucked off with his bit on the side and mom took up with Roman?”

Maddie considers the question. The prospect of Roman with her didn’t seem as nauseating if her dad was with someone else. She wonders if Charlotte is right; if this actually was about her dad, rather than Roman. Of course, the usual shit of a younger guy had run through her head; but the guy had more money than her mom, it’s not like he was trying to swindle her.

“She’s happy, Maddie,” Charlotte continues. “Have you even considered how anxious she fucking she might be about getting your approval; in the kitchen right now, shitting herself over you being upset about this and the only person holding her back from being fucking elated is you? You’re not that guy, Maddie, although we all know you like to play the Wicked Witch of the West, you know you don’t want to hold back her happiness. And we don’t know anything about their relationship, and quite honestly, it’s none of our business unless he’s taking advantage of her. But mom’s not thick. She can see through anyone’s bullshit. She’s not being taken for a ride. She actually loves him. Just observe. Watch them today. Try to keep an open mind. Get used to the idea before you decide to be stubborn and dislike him. It’ll take time to get used to but honestly, it’ll become easier.”

Maddie bites the inside of her mouth, narrowing her eyes at Charlotte as she offers Maddie a shit eating grin.

“And seriously, as I’ve said to you umpteen times before; go to a bereavement counsellor cause you’re not over it. And I bet the cheating shit isn’t helping. You’ve made dad the good guy and mom the bad guy for too many years. Hearing mom’s side of the story is definitely messing with all that; but cut her some slack. Support her in her happiness just like she’s always done for you,” she shrugs, standing up slowly and walking towards her. “Now, I need to go make a fucking lamb and boil some damn eggs before mom fucks it up.”

She smiles, leaning down to kiss Maddie on the top of her crown, pressing her own forehead against her older sisters.

“Try not to be so stubborn. He’s a nice dude, even with his face blown up like the Elephant Man. There’s a sensitivity there. You’ll see,” she smiles before pulling back and looking to Ryan and gesturing her head to him to fucking step in and encourage her further, before walking to the door.

“GERALDINE! YOU BETTER NOT HAVE TOUCHED MY LAMB!” She shouts loudly in the hallway, walking towards the kitchen.

****

Gerri walks out the living room with a smile, inhaling the scent of the roses again.

“These really are beautiful, Rome,” she praises with a large grin, as she moves towards the kitchen. He can’t help the embarrassed smile that forms on his lips as she crosses the threshold.

“Not as beautiful as you, babe,” he offers, closing the door behind him.

“Shh,” she admonishes lightly, placing the bouquet onto the counter before turning back towards him. “What did I say about calling me that in front of people?” She smiles wrapping her arms around his neck as his find her waist.

“No one heard,” he smiles, appreciating her beautiful smile, her sparkling blue eyes giving him an eye roll.

“They truly are beautiful,” she smiles, offering a loving kiss that he tries to deepen before she pulls back with a giggle. “What even possessed you?” She asks as she pulls away from him to move around the island to the cupboard she knew she would find a vase.

“I don’t know,” he shrugs. “Felt like it,” he sighs deeply, moving to the roses to smell them himself.

“Well it was very sweet. Hope you weren’t too sprung on with Maddie’s arrival,” she says softly, moving to the sink with the vase to rinse it out.

“Nah,” he brushes off. “It’s fine. Don’t think she likes me much though,” he divulges grimacing awkwardly, running his hand across the marble.

Gerri huffs, holding the vase against the bottom of the sink as it fills.

“Maddie’s just uhm… complex,” she settles on. “We always had issues. I always thought it was just teenage daughter against their mother angst, but it never really alleviated. Just when I thought she was starting to ease up, it got a whole lot worse when Baird died. I don’t think she’s over it even now. She was always a daddy’s girl,” she reveals, pulling the half full vase from the sink and placing it on the counter.

“Yeah, Charlotte told me she just takes a while to warm up to people,” he pouts dramatically as he watches her turning to get scissors from a drawer.

“That’s true. She was always been like that. Very guarded, but once she warms up to you, she can be a lot of fun. She and Charlotte are as thick as thieves,” she smiles, moving around to cut open the plastic wrapped around the flowers before laying them on the counter.

“I thought you said it had been better in recent years though?” He asks with a frown, watching her expertly cutting the bottom of the stem before leaning over to drop it into the vase, trying to examine the length.

“It was. I’d been making a lot of effort to the point that we could actively spent time together when we never did at all before, but every so often a bit of tension would seep through. I hope that with the talk we had the other night, it’ll get better now,” she sighs, taking the rose back out to lay against the others before continuing cutting the rest of the stems.

“Yeah,” he tries to encourage though it comes across a little pathetically. “I’m sure it’ll get better. I just hope she warms up to me.”

“Give her time, Rome. She’ll warm up,” she tells him softly. “Just be yourself and she will be charmed,” she laughs a little, continuing to cut the stems.

“Hope so,” he says quietly, looking down at the counter.

“So, what did you buy?” She asks gesturing her head to the full bags of groceries.

“Fuck, I can’t even remember now,” he puffs. “A bunch of shit,” he shrugs moving over to the bags, as she offers a smirk. “Well, you requested wine, so,” he begins, reaching into the bag.

“I was kidding, Rome. I have plenty of wine here,” she laughs, ceasing the cutting of a stem to look up to him.

“Well, I didn’t get wine anyway. I got three bottles of Champagne. It’s a holiday, right? A special occasion so why not celebrate?” He shrugs as he pulls out the bottles of champagne aligning them.

“If you wanted champagne, I have some here. You didn’t have to buy any,” she smirks, cutting the stems again.

“Yeah, but then where would be the fun in buying shit then?” He pulls an exasperated face at her, as though it were obvious. “I wanted to contribute something anyway.”

“You don’t need to contribute anything. You’re a guest,” she smiles. “My very special guest,” she flirts, looking at him through her eyelashes over the rim of her glasses.

“Well, in the words of a very intelligent siren, I want to contribute my part and have everything equal,” he says impersonating her voice, pulling a similar face to her pointed looks.

“Touché,” she smiles, looking back down to her flowers.

“Anyway, we went to the deli because your child wanted pancetta, but we decided to go for a starter slash waiting for dinner to cook snack and bought loads of meat to make antipasti,” he says opening the bag from the deli to pull things out.

“Oh, interesting,” she offers.

“Salami, prosciutto, pepperoni, various cheeses, a cheese BOARD, and an Italian loaf,” he lists, pulling each thing out of the bag as he tells her. “Then to accompany it we bought artichoke hearts, olives, peppers, loads of olive oil, and balsamic vinegar.”

“Very festive,” she smirks.

“Hey, fuck you. You won’t be saying that when you’re creaming over the taste of this shit,” he fires at her.

“Shhh,” she laughs, moving around the island to pick up her vase and bring it around to the flowers. “Is that all then?”

“Fuck no! We got the eggs and the paint and brushes for our FESTIVE Easter decorating,” he looks at her with a cute smile. “I got some stuff to take to Kendall’s later as well: chips, dips, chocolate, deodorant, a toothbrush, and toothpaste,” he says with his head buried in the bag, not taking any of it out.

“Why didn’t you just take your toothbrush from here and use his toothpaste?” She asks placing the flowers into the vase.

“Ehm,” he scoffs. “Because that’s my Gerri’s apartment toothbrush? It belongs here. And he will have weird fucking crack like toothpaste that tastes like jizz. I like your toothpaste the best anyway, so I bought that.”

She smiles, shaking her head as she spruces the flowers, moving them around the vase arranging them as she appreciates how beautiful they look.

“And the last bag,” she asks casually.

“Oh well,” he grins widely. “Your daughter decided that she had changed her mind on her no dessert policy and wanted desserts for everyone.”

“Oh, did she now?”

“She did indeed. She couldn’t decide between a cheesecake or a birthday cake,” he laughs.

“That girl and birthday cake. She would have it on any occasion, I swear,” she laughs. “So, what was the verdict?”

“We got both,” he grins.

“Both? We’re going to end up the ones being rolled down a hill at the end of this meal,” she jests, finally happy with the arrangement of the flowers, as she looks around to him.

“So fuck? Roll me down the hill, man. I’ll die at the bottom happily sated. And anyway, I know that you’re funny about your cakes, so I got you a top-secret gift. Well, two gifts,” he whispers conspiratorially, rapidly pulling something out of the bag to hide behind his back before moving towards her with both hands concealed.

“Were the flowers not enough?” She asks, raising her eyebrows as he moves closer to her.

“Fuck no,” he protests. “Choose a hand,” he offers lightly standing directly in front of her, leaning forward to peck her nose lightly as she scrunches it up, pulling back quickly shaking her head and tapping his left arm.

“Ohhhh,” he drones excitedly, trying to create suspense. “An interesting choice,” he offers before pulling his hand in front of him, offering a large Dove milk chocolate bar.

“You sneak,” she laughs. “You know I’m trying not to eat these anymore.”

“It’s your favourite. Lent’s over,” he laughs, offering another quick peck to her lips, still holding his right hand behind his back.

“It wasn’t for lent,” she admonishes, smiling down at the chocolate bar. “It was for the sake of my hips.”

“Fuck it. Eat what you want. The more to hold onto,” he shrugs.

“Will you still love me when I need to move up three dress sizes?” She asks lightly.

“I’ll still love you if you go up ten dress sizes,” he offers immediately.

“Really? With the amount of times you call me hot?”

“That’s fuck all to do with your size. And I don’t love you because you’re hot you know. Now stop ruining the surprise,” he frowns.

“It was very thoughtful,” she smiles, offering a quick peck in return.

“Aren’t you going ask what’s in the other hand?” He asks fluttering his eyelashes.

“I’m afraid to find out. It better not be Cartier or something,” she warns as he simply smirks.

“You’ll need to choose the hand to find out. Choose a hand.”

“Okay,” she sighs with a smile. “That one,” she says tapping on his right arm dramatically.

He grins wider, revealing a small stuffed chick animal with a blue bow around its neck.

“Nooo,” she offers, with small laughs in between, her hands covering her cheeks.

“You think he’s cute, don’t you?” He teases.

“Shut up,” she says hitting him on the arm embarrassed.

“I was going to call him Lil’ Rome, but I thought you would get it confused with my dick, so I was thinking Chuck,” he grins widely as she takes it from his hands. “Chuck the chick.”

“Chuck the chick,” she repeats quietly. “He’s so soft,” she beams, looking from the little chick up to into his eyes.

“Yeah. He was a cute little guy. Only one on the shelf. I couldn’t leave him there all alone. Thought I could use a new buddy anyway,” he shrugs. “Do you like him?”

“I love him,” she laughs, playing with the bow. “I can’t remember the last time I was given a stuffed toy. Maybe when I was a child.”

“Shhh,” he says quickly, covering Chuck’s ears. “Don’t call him a stuffed toy. You’ll hurt his feelings.”

She laughs then, an overwhelming love for him flooding her, as she leans forward kissing him soundly as she wraps an arm around his neck.

“Don’t crush Chuck,” he mumbles against her lips smiling, as she laughs, kissing him harder as she brings Chuck up above his shoulder to settle against the back of Roman’s neck as he wraps his arms around her waist, deepening the kiss.

“GERALDINE! YOU BETTER NOT HAVE TOUCHED MY LAMB!” They hear Charlotte shout loudly from the hallway, making her way towards the kitchen, as they spring apart quickly.

Charlotte opens the door as Roman turns back towards the groceries, Gerri wiping her mouth and turning flustered towards Charlotte who stares her out.

“Hi honey,” Gerri offers lightly, leaning on the counter, Chuck clutched to her stomach.

“You met Chuck then?” Charlotte nods towards the chick, before walking around the counter.

****

The afternoon had passed relatively painlessly.

Charlotte had successfully got the lamb into the oven, banning everyone from the kitchen; whilst the champagne had been popped open for everyone to enjoy as they had painted their boiled eggs.

Her roses had been displayed on a side table in front of the large window, whilst Chuck had earned a seat on the couch next to Gerri despite the tight squeeze. Roman had opted for the floor, painting the most childlike egg of himself that she had ever seen. Charlotte had ditched the idea of painting her mother, in favour of painting her whole egg orange with a suit, red tie, and yellow hair, declaring it as Trump, much to her sister’s dismay. Gerri hadn’t really been aiming for anything other a person, though it had ended up a blonde egg, Roman encouraging her to paint an apron on it so it looked exactly like her; moving his egg towards hers and making them kiss as Gerri had rolled her eyes. Ryan had excitedly engaged in painting his egg, creating a quite impressive version of himself. Even Maddie had participated, delicately painted herself as a character, ensuring every fine detail was included.

The conversation had actually flowed much easier this time, Roman asking Ryan all about his work, which he indulged in explaining happily, explaining his interest in running for district attorney in Boston. Roman had indulged in trying to find out more about Maddie though she had been more reticent in her explanation of her job role; she had been quiet for most of the day, simply observing as Charlotte had advised. That was until the topic of politics had arisen where Roman had gleefully watched a debate between Maddie and Charlotte to the death. He had been encouraged out to the balcony by Ryan instead; discovering that Ryan was actually quite a decent dude after a long conversation about a bunch of bullshit.

Lunch had been relatively stress free as well, the conversation about the same old shit he had been engaging in with investors for years as he listened to their hobbies, their views on foreign politics, their professions, answering their questions about the Roys and Waystar as he had offered ancient anecdotes that were always crowd pleasers; he was sure he even got a small smirk from Maddie at one point which he took as a victory.

They had moved from the dining room into the living room after lunch, Charlotte splayed across an armchair, Roman laughing at her as he had dunked into the one opposite her, whilst Ryan, Maddie, and Gerri had relaxed into the couch; Ryan complaining of his swollen stomach.

The conversation continued though he had become distracted as he looked down to his phone.

**_02.45_ **

**_Shiv: Yo, where the fuck are you?_ **

**_02.57_ **

**_Missed Call: Shiv Roy_ **

**_02.58_ **

**_Missed Call: Shiv Roy_ **

**_03.34_ **

**_Shiv: Roman. What the fuck? You better have fucking slept in._ **

**_03.46_ **

**_Missed Call: Shiv Roy_ **

**_04.02_ **

**_Missed Call: Shiv Roy_ **

He spends a moment looking down at it, before he locks the phone, turning his attention back to the conversation.

“So, did you find out if the interview is tomorrow?” Charlotte asks abruptly, looking at Gerri.

“Oh. Sorry, I thought I told you. No, it’s on Tuesday now so I’m all yours tomorrow. Did you want to do anything in particular?” Gerri asks, looking around to Maddie as well.

“I don’t care,” Charlotte shrugs, closing her eyes and resting her head against the back of the chair.

“Well when is it you all fly out?” Gerri asks, picking up Chuck before brushing her fingers absently across his head.

“We’re at 5pm,” Maddie offers, resting her hands on her stomach, relaxing a little into the cushions.

“I’m not until 10pm,” Charlotte offers, as Roman pulls a worried face looking to Gerri.

“Oh,” Gerri offers in surprise. “Uhm… I didn’t realise it was that late. Oh, well you’ll just have to help me pack then.”

“Pack what?” Maddie asks sceptically.

“I’m sure I thought I mentioned it the other night. I need to pack some of my things up because I’m going to stay with Roman for a while. The paparazzi will be crazy for the next few weeks once the article is out. He has an underground car park, so it makes it easier for us and the security detail if we get in and out the building that way,” Gerri offers softly. “But we’re going to Vienna a week on Wednesday as well, so I need to pack a whole other wardrobe to take some pieces there. I’ve already done a little packing, but I was going to do it after you all left tomorrow. I don’t know why I thought you left earlier, Charlotte.”

“How long are you staying with Roman?” Maddie pipes up with a grimace.

It’s the first time Maddie has used his name; and he knows disgust when he hears it. He looks expectantly at Gerri with a small smile, hoping to convey that if she wants to ease them into this by bending the truth then he’s okay with that.

“I don’t know,” Gerri offers calmly. “We’re going to play it by ear.”

Charlotte closes her eyes briefly, opening them to watch her sister, trying to offer a sympathetic expression, trying to remind her to remain calm.

“What does _that_ mean?” Maddie sits up suddenly. “Are you moving in?” She asks looking around to Roman who inverts his lips, awkwardly scratching the back of neck.

“We don’t know,” Gerri sighs, sitting Chuck down on the couch next to her. “I was only going to stay there for a few weeks until the media died down. But we decided last night that we might just see how it goes. Look at it as a trial and see if we would like to live together,” she shrugs, offering a small smile to Roman which he returns.

Roman feels his phone vibrating again as he looks down and sees Shiv is calling; ignoring it to turn his attention back to the conversation.

“Isn’t that a bit… soon?” Maddie scoffs looking around to her mom now.

“Well, no,” Gerri offers resolutely. “We’ve been together for nine months. Been tiptoeing around it since January last year, so no, I wouldn’t say so. I would say we’ve actually been quite reticent,” she says firmly, offering a wry smile to Maddie, her temper rising at the fact she was being questioned over it.

“Plus, it’s just seeing how it goes. She might hate living with me,” he pipes up with a small laugh.

“Like I said,” Gerri offers strongly. “We’re seeing how it goes. Nothing’s permanent at the moment. But at my age you can’t really wait the several years before taking steps like that. I don’t know how long I’ll be around,” she says firmly, looking down at her lap.

“Don’t say that,” Roman protests quickly, much to everyone in the rooms surprise as all eyes land on him. “Don’t, Gerri.”

Maddie is shocked most of all, a small insight into Roman that she apparently needed; Gerri offering a deep sigh.

“You know very quickly when you’re happy at my age and want to take advantage of it. And that’s what I am. So, we’ll see how it goes,” she finishes sternly, as though it’s no longer up for discussion.

“Well, I think it’s pretty smart, mom,” Charlotte tries to encourage. “Seeing how it goes first. I wish I’d done that with Brad. Moved the idiot in after a few months and we all know how that ended. And you’ll still have your apartment anyway if working and living together becomes a bit much, right?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m not getting rid of the apartment,” Gerri reassures as Maddie again sits quietly.

“Even if it does work out, there’s no decision on whether we would move into mine or your moms or even get a completely different place anyways,” Roman offers with a small smile as he notes his phone vibrating against his thigh again, Shiv calling again as he ignores it again.

However, Gerri can feel her temper flaring, angry at her daughter for questioning her life choices like she doesn’t have a fucking brain to make a decision for herself.

“That’s another thing,” Gerri pipes up decisively. “Roman has bought a townhouse in London. A beautiful townhouse next to where Sylvia Plath had lived. And I’m going in on it with him; we’re going to own it together like a kind of vacation home or use it when we’re in London for work. So, I was thinking we could take a girl’s trip to London. Maybe do some shopping and go to the theatre as well. Just the three of us,” she finishes firmly.

“London?” Maddie breathes.

“Fuck off,” Charlotte grins. “I’m for it! Does that mean I can stay there when I go with friends or whatever?” She asks excitedly.

“Yeah, sure,” Roman smiles.

“It’s under renovation just now. But it should be finished soon. So, I was thinking we could do it at the end of summer or something. It would be my treat, of course.”

“I need to go to the bathroom,” Maddie states abruptly, standing up and walking out the room.

“I’ll go,” Charlotte offers standing, holding a hand out to Ryan to stop him.

They sit awkwardly, as Roman’s phone begins buzzing again, Gerri frowning.

“Who keeps calling?” She asks.

“Shiv,” he shakes his head.

“You can go answer it.”

“No, fuck her. There’s shit going on here.”

“It’s okay, Rome,” she offers a small smile, as she shakes his head, putting the phone down.

“I’m really happy for you Gerri,” Ryan smiles. “Sounds like a lot of exciting stuff.”

“Thank you, Ryan,” she smiles gently.

Roman looks around to Ryan and then to Gerri as she takes a sip of her flute of champagne.

“You know,” Roman offers awkwardly, sighing deeply. “If they need more time, we can just leave it? Can do the trial in a few months or something. Hold of you coming in on the London house.”

“Roman,” Gerri looks at him sternly, flickering her eyes to Ryan briefly. “It’s fine. She’ll get used to the idea. It’s just a lot to take in all at once. Don’t worry about it, honey.”

“Charlotte spoke to her earlier,” Ryan reveals with a sigh. “Tried to explain it all to her. I think it actually helped but it’s obvious it’s about her dad. She’s just not over it yet. Never got any help for it. But we decided that we were maybe going to look into bereavement counselling when we get back home. She’ll get used to it, Roman. She just needs some time. Don’t cancel your plans for that,” he smiles, downing the rest of his flute.

“I think that would be good for her,” Gerri smiles.

Just then Roman feels the phone vibrating against his thigh again, huffing loudly.

“I’m sorry,” he sighs. “I’m going to have to take this or she won’t let up.”

“It’s okay,” Gerri smiles. “Just go into the bedroom.”

“Sorry,” he huffs as he finally answers the phone. “Hello,” he answers angrily. “Hi. What’s with all the phone calls? Are you looking for work experience in telesales or fucking what?”

He trails off until he’s out of the room.

“She _will_ come around,” Ryan offers gently as she offers a small smile. “She just needs some time. It’s getting used to it.”

“Yeah, of course. I didn’t think she’d be okay with it overnight. Told her that the other night,” she sighs, as she hears Maddie and Charlotte come back into the room.

“Where’s Roman?” Charlotte asks instantly as she sits in the armchair, Maddie sitting in the armchair Roman had just vacated.

“He had to take a call from his sister,” Gerri tells them gently, before looking to Maddie, taking in her awkward body language. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she offers, inverting her lips.

“Maddie,” Gerri sighs. “Come on. Didn’t we agree to be brutally honest from now on?”

“I don’t know, mom,” Maddie huffs angrily. “I don’t fucking know. It’s just weird that’s all. It’s fucking weird.”

Gerri sighs, narrowing her eyes, before nodding.

“What is it that’s weird? The age? The moving in? I did say to you the other night that it was likely our next step,” Gerri tells her pointedly.

“Yeah! But I didn’t think you meant in a few days time! I thought you meant eventually! I thought there would be some time to get used to it! Like you’ve sprung him on us two days ago and now it’s oh we _might_ move in together even though we’ve just bought a townhouse together in another country. Come fucking on!” Maddie shouts angrily.

“Maddie. Lower— your— voice—,” Gerri states sternly, as Maddie sighs deeply. “I understand it’s a lot to take in, but remember we’ve been in a relationship for nine months, it’s not as if we entered this a few days ago. As I said before we only decided last night that it would be a good opportunity to TRIAL whether it’s something we want to do permanently. And the townhouse is in another country, meaning we won’t be living in it permanently making it much different to buying something together here. If anything ever happened between us which I really don’t think it will, I’ve agreed that I would sell him back my half because it’s his dream house.”

“I just don’t get it,” Maddie huffs, leaning back in her chair.

“You don’t have to get it,” Gerri offers angrily, taking a deep breath to try and calm herself down. “I understand it’s hard for you, honey. I know your dad’s death was hard on you. I know it must be hard to see me take up with someone else seriously. But it’s been five years. And I’m happy. Unbelievably so. Do you hate me so much that you’d rather I wasn’t happy?”

“No!” Maddie protests as Charlotte sinks into her seat with her eyes closed, exasperated at the exchange. “I don’t hate you and I don’t want you to be unhappy, but I just don’t get it. He’s nothing like dad. Nothing. I’m not saying he’s a bad guy. I’m saying that I don’t see how it fits.”

“Maybe it’s a good thing he’s not like your dad,” Gerri says sadly. “Your dad,” she starts before she chokes up, raising her eyes to the ceiling to blink away the incoming tears; Ryan becoming more uncomfortable and excusing himself to go to the bathroom. “Your dad,” she continues once Ryan has left, “broke my heart,” she breathes out. “Something I know Roman would never do to me. And yes, we’re not conventional. I don’t know why it works but it does. You can’t help who you fall in love with.”

Maddie looks down taking a deep breath, guilt flooding over her.

“You didn’t know me before your dad. I was very different. I was adventurous, care-free, exciting. When life hit me, responsibilities took over. And no, I don’t mean both of you, before you jump to conclusions; I mean work, dinners, corporate retreats, golf and tennis with clients. I’m not saying I had an unhappy life; I just didn’t do the things I always wanted to do. I did the things I thought I should do. I wanted to travel. I wanted to see different places all over the world. And while I’ve been lucky enough to do that with work, I’ve never been able to explore them. I wanted to spend time with both of you. Going on girls’ trips and having fun and making memories. And Roman has made me remember that I’m not past it. That I can do whatever I want. That I still have so much time to do everything I wanted to alongside someone who shares the exact same passions as me. He loves me and I love him, and we’re good for each other. We give each other exactly what each other needs. And he treats me like I’m the best thing since sliced bread,” she laughs a little. “I’m the happiest I think I’ve ever been and would be even more so if we could sort this friction out between us, so we can spend the last of however many years I have left enjoying being a family.”

Charlotte nods, encouraging Maddie who sits quietly, trying to understand everything her mother has told her.

“Does that clear up some of your misunderstanding?” Gerri challenges a little to Maddie.

“Yes,” Maddie offers a little petulantly. 

“I already told you,” Gerri finishes firmly. “He’s not going anywhere so it’s something you have to get used to. I’m not asking for that to be immediate. But one thing I absolutely demand whether you’re okay with it or not, is to show him respect. Rolling your eyes and giving one-word answers when he’s really trying is not fucking respect. He came into _our_ household today which is already a daunting prospect without the fact that he’s suffered one of the most traumatic things a person could ever go through in the last 24 hours. He did that because both of you said you were comfortable with it, knowing that it could be detrimental to himself. He’s tried so hard to make an effort with you both today and in my book, that deserves all the kudos. Respect is the the one thing I will demand from you both, just as I would from him towards you.”

“Hey, I like him!” Charlotte defends, throwing her hands up.

“I’m not saying I don’t like him,” Maddie backtracks quietly.

“Then treat him like a fucking client you would pretend to like until you do. Because I won’t accept anything less,” Gerri warns.

“I get it,” Maddie sighs. “I’m sorry. I just can’t help feeling… I don’t know,” she sighs deeply again.

“I understand, honey. No one is asking you to be excited about it all. Everyone takes their own time to adjust. But instead of being stand-offish, I need you to at least be polite. That which you would offer to any other stranger until you got to know them.”

“I’ll try,” Maddie sighs again. “I swear I will. I don’t want you to be unhappy.”

“Ryan said something about you maybe getting some bereavement counselling?” Gerri fishes, whilst Maddie rolls her eyes in anger.

“You’re gonna do it?” Charlotte sits up interested.

“Is anything sacred anymore? Yeah, I think this whole thing has just proved that I’m still not okay with dad’s death. Then with the shit from the other night. It’s just a bit much,” she shrugs, as there is a knock on the door.

“Is it safe to enter?” Ryan shouts through the crack in the door.

“Yes!” Gerri shouts over her shoulder with an eye roll.

“Yes, big mouth,” Maddie taunts. “Thanks for telling them about the counselling.”

“Uhm… Gerri,” Ryan says awkwardly with his hands in his pockets, ignoring Maddie’s comment. “I genuinely wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but I can hear shouting from down the hall, I don’t know if you want to like… I don’t know,” he trails off with a nod to the door as Gerri’s eyes bulge, standing up instantly.

“I’ll be right back,” she offers, before swiftly leaving the room, his screaming becoming progressively louder.

****

“Hello,” he answers angrily. “Hi. What’s with all the phone calls? Are you looking for work experience in telesales or fucking what?”

He trails off until he’s out of the room, making his way down the hallway to the bedroom.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Where the fuck are you? I texted you an hour and a half ago and you’ve been ignoring my fucking phone calls,” Shiv shouts down the phone pacing around from what he can hear.

“I’m not coming to dinner, Shiv. I’m… uh… at a different Easter lunch, okay?” He says closing the door behind him as he hears a scoff down the phone.

“You’re fucking kidding. Of course, you’re coming. What the fuck do you mean, you’re at a different Easter lunch?”

“Exactly what I fucking said, pea brain. I’m at an Easter lunch, okay? I’m not fucking coming,” he says sternly, walking around the room.

“Oh my god,” she sighs. “You’re with fucking Gerri, aren’t you?”

He falters, doesn’t want to reveal his location but the way she’s suggesting that like that’s a fucking bad thing makes him not want to deny it.

“What the fuck would it matter if I was?” He shrugs, his brow furrowing.

“Is it a family affair?” Shiv pushes harder, mocking him. “Are you playing fucked up step daddy? Big happy family? You know you’ll never live up to Baird, don’t you? Fucking traitor,” she spits.

“Look, you don’t know fucking anything,” he fires back.

“I know that you’re with Gerri. That much is obvious. Is that it now, Rome? Is that the end of you coming to family shit because Gerri has you fucking whipped?” She insults further again.

“Don’t fucking talk about her like that! I have my own fucking reasons for not fucking coming. It’s nothing to do with Gerri!”

“Like fuck it isn’t! This is exactly what I was talking about; she has you by the balls man. Fairy godmother is a femdom if there ever was one and you’re just the sad little sub puppy who runs around after her,” she scoffs loudly.

“Shut the fuck up, Shiv!” He shouts louder. “That’s not how it fucking is. I told you before it’s not like that! She has nothing to do with it. We aren’t fucking like that. I’m not a sad little sub puppy! And like you have any fucking right to say anything with your fucking sham marriage! You weren’t even married a year and yet you were fucking whoever the fuck you could while Wambsgans sucked off Greg! Give me a fucking break!” He shouts loudly, sounding like he can hear a door closing from down the corridor, causing him to grimace and lower his voice.

“You don’t fucking know anything! That’s not fucking true,” she shouts back.

“Oh, isn’t it?” He says lowering his voice. “Is it not true, Siobhan? What about Nate? Inviting the guy to your fucking to your wedding man? Fucking savage even for you. I got to hand it to you. Then the one in Willa’s play?” He hums smarmily, pacing around the bed.

“Fuck you, you little prick! At least I’m not fucking a grandmother!”

“She’s not even a fucking grandmother so jokes on fucking you!”

“How is it fucking her, Roman? Does she take her dentures out when she gives you a blowjob? Do you do it on the stairlift? Do you do missionary, so it doesn’t throw her back out? Do you schedule it in a quicky before the news is on? Or do you even fuck her at all? We all know that you never fucked any of the rest of them,” she shouts down the phone tauntingly.

“At least I’m fucking only one person I actually love, you tragic fucking disaster. Have you ever felt anything for Wambsgans? We know you didn’t do it as a power move considering he’s a fucking nobody. Did you just marry Tom to hide the fact you’re a big fucking lesbian? Because you’re not fooling anyone. Come out of the closet Shiv, it’s the 21st century.”

“Ha fucking ha. Only one of us has batted for the other side, Roman, and it’s not me,” she fires back.

“Only because you’re too fucking afraid to admit it to yourself, you fucking ugly demon,” he shouts down the phone again.

“Look, I can’t be fucked doing this anymore. Why don’t you go take off your dog collar and tell _mommy_ that you need to go visit your real daddy because he’s going into fucking prison tomorrow, and stop being a little prick,” she orders him severely.

“I’m not coming, Siobhan. Have your dinner and whatever traumatic sordid fuckery that’s going to inevitably happen there tonight and count me the fuck out,” he shouts louder into the phone.

“How can you do this? How can you choose her over dad? He’s going to prison, Roman. It’s not a fucking joke. This could be the last Easter he ever fucking has. We will probably never sit at a table with him again!”

“No, Shiv. I actually hear they have tables when visiting in prison now,” he mocks angrily. “Sometimes there’s glass between us though.”

“You’re fucking heartless. He’s our dad. He wants you here. Kendall’s already not coming and now you’re choosing Gerri over him and not coming too? Come over here and go to hers after if you need to administer her blood pressure meds before she tucks you in and reads you a bedtime story.”

“Fuck you. It’s nothing to do with Gerri,” Roman spits until what she says hits him. “Has he genuinely said he wants me there?” he asks confused.

“Yes. He’s been asking where you are for the past three hours!” She shouts exasperated.

“That fucked up son of a bitch,” he whispers under his breath.

“What the fuck?” She shouts angrily.

“Shiv,” he sighs, knowing he has to tell her. “Dad called me up to the apartment last night about the article that came out about me and Gerri, so I had to tell him then. But he took it bad man.”

“Yeah, I know. He already told me,” she offers exasperated.

“You know?”

“Yeah. He said you both got into an argument and you stormed out like a petulant kid,” she tells him obviously. “Big fucking deal. Get over here.”

“Is that what he told you?” Roman laughs frustrated.

“Yeah,” she answers cheekily.

“We didn’t get into an argument, Shiv. Well we did but…,” he takes a deep breath. “He hit me,” he says quietly.

“Fuck off,” she laughs.

Roman is floored, of all the reactions, that’s not what he would have expected.

“What?” He breathes.

“Like fuck.”

“What like that’s unbelievable? You’ve seen it before. Several fucking times!” He shouts angrily.

“Yeah, but he wouldn’t hit you just because you’re with Gerri. Come on. He’s only hit you before because you insulted him or something.”

“He hit me for ordering LOBSTER, Siobhan. How is this unbelievable?!” He shouts loudly now as he hears another door close down the corridor, not giving a fuck this time.

“Yeah, because you were being a little dick about it. If he did, you must have taunted him into it. You’re really not going to come over here?”

“Did you not fucking hear me!” He shouts loudly. “HE DIDN’T JUST FUCKING HIT ME! HE BEAT ME UP!” He screams at the top of his lungs, as he hears a light knock on the door, Gerri poking her head in.

He sighs deeply, waving her in as she closes the door lightly.

“Roman, stop being fucking dramatic,” she sighs.

“Dramatic!? Fucking dramatic?!” He shouts louder, as Gerri frowns, holding her hands up in confusion.

“What’s going on?” Gerri whispers.

Shiv scoffs on the other end of the phone, as his rage flares wildly, moving the phone away from his ear to put her on loudspeaker so Gerri can hear.

“Shiv,” he seethes. “My face is basically fucking burst open. I have a fucking black eye, a swollen face, and a burst lip.”

“Yeah, like he could do that much fucking damage,” Shiv scoffs. “You’re really going to do this just to get out coming here, aren’t you?”

Gerri’s eyes widen as she looks up to Roman dropping the phone onto the bed, putting his head in his hands.

“He knocked my fucking tooth out the last time, Shiv! How is he suddenly too fucking frail to do any damage? Do you need me to send you a fucking photo for proof? I’ll fucking send you one!”

Gerri makes her way over to him, watching his anger reaching peak, taking his face in her hands.

“It’s okay. It’s okay,” she whispers as he pants loudly, his hands solidly on his hips as he closes his hands tightly, bowing his head.

“Look, stop with the bullshit. Dad says he forgives you for last night, so you have nothing to worry about coming here. He’s not going to release his wrath on you,” she laughs a little, as Roman thrusts away from Gerri’s caresses, looking around at the phone.

“He forgives me?” Roman shouts exasperated. “Well, tell dad I don’t fucking forgive him!”

“Roman, stop being so immature. Fuck,” Shiv sighs, as Roman moves to pick up the phone.

“FUCK YOU!” He screams loudly into the phone before hanging up and throwing the phone aggressively at the bed, before bringing his arms up around the back of his head, groaning loudly, before panting frantically.

“It’s okay. It’s okay,” Gerri whispers to him, putting a hand around his back.

“It’s not okay!” He shouts loudly, as his body writhes out of her touch, walking towards the window as his arms lower, his fists contracting and relaxing. “How can she not believe me?! She was there for it before! She’s seen it with her own eyes! And if he did then I must have taunted him? LIKE IT’S MY FUCKING FAULT!”

“She doesn’t want to believe it, Rome. She’s being obtuse. Never mind her,” Gerri turns to face him, allowing him the freedom he needs right now.

“I DIDN’T TAUNT HIM, GERRI!” He shouts from across the room.

“I know you didn’t, honey. I know,” she tries to soothe.

“Why the fuck would I make that up?” He grits out through a clenched jaw.

“You wouldn’t,” she soothes. “You might joke around at times, but it was clear you weren’t joking this time. She’s probably just blocking out the idea because your dad’s going into prison tomorrow. It fucks with her perfect family dinner before he leaves. Fucks with her image of him.”

It’s then that Gerri hears her phone ringing in the back pocket of her jeans; had totally forgotten it was there. She pulls it out, ready to silence it until she sees Shiv’s name appear across it.

“It’s Shiv,” she tells him plainly, holding it up to show him.

“Don’t answer,” he says quickly.

“We have nothing to hide from her,” Gerri states boldly. “She’s just doing your dad’s bidding.”

“She deserves fuck all now. Fuck her!” Roman shouts loudly, as the phone rings out, a missed call appearing, as Gerri sighs deeply.

“They want to know where I am so they can come here. They’re using you to get to me and I won’t fucking let them,” Roman states boldly, his anxiety abating as he stays still.

“They’ll have a hard time using me, Rome,” Gerri states firmly.

Gerri’s phone starts ringing again as he throws his hands up again, begins pacing away from her again, whilst she answers it.

“What is it, Siobhan?” She states firmly as he looks around to her with wide eyes, listening intently, as she puts it on speaker for him to hear.

“Get him to come over here. Use whatever witchcraft your using to control his dick and get him to come here. You come too if that’s what’s going to get him here,” Shiv states directly as Roman seethes again about to start screaming, until Gerri holds her finger up to her lips, looking at him, indicating for him to be quiet.

“I’m not coming over there, Siobhan, and neither is he. That’s his choice,” Gerri states firmly.

“Why the fuck not?” Shiv shouts down the phone.

“I have a family, Siobhan. I’m not dropping them at a whim because your dad puts the order out that we are to be summoned. Roman doesn’t want to see him and neither do I. You have no idea what your dad did to him last night,” she seethes, holding the phone up to her mouth in front of her. “The whole side of his face is practically burst open. It wasn’t just a small slap this time.”

“Is that what he told you?” Shiv scoffs. “He’s doing a number on you too then,” she laughs as Roman gets angry again ready to explode, as Gerri holds a hand up to calmly abate him again.

“No, Siobhan. It’s what I seen with my own two eyes when I had to administer first aid to him last night,” she bristles, a bite in her tone as Shiv remains silent.

“Don’t tell them I’m here! Fuck!” Roman whispers frantically waving his hands at her, as Gerri nods.

“Do you honestly not believe your dad did it?” Gerri asks angrily as Roman watches her with his cheeks squeezed between his hands. “After all you’ve witnessed over the years. After all your dad has done to him. You honestly think I would lie to you right now about that? What would I have to gain from that? Do you honestly believe that if your dad did hit him, that he somehow deserved it because he made an off the cuff comment? Take a long hard look at yourself and grow the fuck up, Siobhan,” she roars furiously, as Roman’s eyes widen innocently.

“I… I…,” is all Shiv can seem to get out on the other end of the phone.

“We are not coming over. End of. Do not call again. Goodbye,” Gerri states firmly before hanging up the phone and looking up to him.

“Why did you tell her I was here?” Roman asks worriedly.

“She doesn’t know you’re here now,” Gerri reasons. “I said I seen you last night. I didn’t say where.”

“I need to go,” he decides abruptly. “I need to leave,” he says moving towards the door.

“Hey,” she steps in front of him with her hands held out. “Hey. Listen to me, listen. It’s okay. Calm down.”

“I can’t calm down. They could be sending someone here to get me right now,” Roman pants.

“Roman,” she states firmly. “No one is coming for you. It’s okay. Just take a minute to breathe, okay? If you want to leave after you calm down, then that’s fine but take some deep breaths for me first okay?” She says, lifting his hand to place in the middle of her chest, taking a deep breath in to encourage him to follow her. “Just like me. Come on.”

He closes his eyes for a minute, trying to follow her pattern of breathing, trying to stop his mind from reeling.

“It’s not working,” he opens his eyes in panic, her hands still firmly over his on her chest.

“Yes, it is,” she reassures. “You’re already breathing better. Just a little longer, okay?” She encourages, letting her hand encourage his over her shoulder to pull him into an embrace, his head burrowing into her shoulder as her chest presses against his.

“Just follow my breathing, okay?” She whispers, wrapping her arms around him.

They stand like that for a few minutes as his breathing regulates, her hands soothingly stroking his back.

“Better?” She whispers near his ear, pressing a kiss to his neck.

“Yeah,” he mumbles into her shoulder, as she pulls back, cradling his face in one of her hands.

“Now, what do you want to do? What makes you feel most comfortable?” She asks softly, looking at his swollen face, his red eyes.

“I should go to Kendall’s. You don’t need this,” he whispers, looking down to her chest.

“No, don’t go because of that. I asked what _you_ want to do. If you need time alone, you can just stay in here the rest of the night. Don’t worry about me and the girls,” she reassures, encouraging him again, her thumb caressing his cheek.

“No, like, ugh,” he groans. “I’m like trying to process this and I don’t want to be on edge around them,” he nods to the other room. “I’m not, like comfortable right now.”

“I understand, honey. I just don’t want you to be upset and alone right now. I don’t want you wandering the streets again,” she soothes with worried eyes.

“I won’t do that. I’ll be fine at Kendall's. If anyone understands this, it’s him,” he reasons, pushing his face into her warm palm. “Dad won’t go to Ken’s. He hasn’t gone there in all the time since the press conference so I’ll probably be better there, and you can go back to enjoying your night.”

“I’m going to worry about you regardless but whatever you’re comfortable with, honey. As long as you’re okay. Do you feel any calmer?” She asks him, her eyes widening.

“Yeah,” he whispers. “Yeah. I just can’t believe she didn’t believe me.”

“She’s idiotic,” Gerri offers with a shrug. “She believes you now, I can promise you that.”

“Only because _you_ told her,” he sighs.

“Forget her. She’s on her own planet. Just relax tonight, okay? Go to Kendall’s and relax if that’s what makes you feel better and call me if you need anything,” she smiles softly.

“It’s nothing to do with you,” he whines. “I just don’t want to look like a neurotic fucking mess in front of them and worry about that, and ugh.”

“Don’t worry about that,” she reassures. “I understand. You’ve done so well today. I’m so proud of you. You’re so much stronger than you realise and today proves that,” she smiles, leaning in to peck his lips.

“I love you,” he sighs deeply, moving in to hug her again.

“Me too, Rome,” she sighs, hugging him tightly. “Don’t do anything stupid at Kendall’s. Don’t take drugs or something moronic like that; it’ll just cloud your thinking. If he starts anything or has a party or something just come straight back here. At any time. You can hide out in the bedroom if they’re still here, okay?”

“Nah, I won’t do anything like that. Ken said he was just chilling out tonight,” he mumbles into her shoulder, hugging her tighter.

“Good,” she whispers, running her hand through the hair on the back of head down to his neck. “Don’t let what she said control you. She’ll feel like a fucking moron soon, if she doesn’t already.”

“She is a fucking moron,” he mumbles again, closing his eyes for a moment to inhale her scent. “Thank you for inviting me to have lunch with your family. I really did like them. It’s the best family meal I’ve had in a while. I’m glad Charlotte seems cool with me.”

“Maddie will warm up,” she smiles offering a kiss to his neck before pulling back. “Thank you for trying so hard with them. You were very charming. And thank you for everything you bought. The beautiful roses, and the chocolate, and of course little Chuck.”

“He gonna be on my side of the bed tonight?” He chuckles as he asks. “He’s not going to replace me, is he?”

“Never,” she smiles. “You’re irreplaceable,” she offers, tapping his uninjured cheek lightly before planting a quick kiss on his lips.

“Okay,” he sighs. “I should go say goodbye,” he huffs, looking up at the ceiling.

“Okay, honey,” she smiles, taking his hand as he leads her towards the door and down the hallway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry. We know Shiv isn't the super bitch she's coming across just now. She's just stressed with a one track mind just now. We'll be hearing from her again. Trust and believe. 
> 
> Have no fear. I'm trying to get Easter the fuck out of my life so should only be one more chapter of it, then we're moving on.


	8. Kendall's Apartment

Roman shows up at Kendall’s apartment, bag in hand, sending Gerri a text to let her know he’s made it here as he leans against the front door frame waiting for Kendall to answer.

When Kendall opens the door, all he does it stare as Roman offers a raising of his eyebrows, and a pursing of his lips before entering.

“Fuck, dude,” Kendall breathes. “It’s actually worse in person.”

“I was just thinking the same thing about you,” Roman offers, making his way into to the apartment, over to the couch.

“No seriously, dude. You look fucked,” Kendall says following him in as Roman plonks onto the couch, dumping his bag onto the floor.

“I actually think it will give me a newfound terrifyingly tough, intimidating image,” he jokes deadpan. “Maybe it’ll leave me a scar and I’ll look like one of those mafiosos. I’ll be able to make everyone an offer they can’t refuse because they’ll be afraid I’ll set Clemenza on them,” Roman offers as he pulls off his coat, throwing it to the other couch whilst Kendall stands behind the couch watching.

“Or they’ll just think you’re a pussy that got the shit kicked out of them because you finger blasted the wrong persons daughter,” Kendall jokes as Roman scoffs.

“Yeah, there’s that too,” Roman hums, battering his feet onto the coffee table, looking up to the baseball game that’s playing on the TV.

“You want a drink?” Kendall can only think to say.

“Yeah. Make it a quadruple,” Roman says absently, threading his hands, settling them on his stomach with a sigh.

He sits in silence, vacantly watching the dudes on the TV running bases; he thinks of their shitty baseball game in Hawaii, bringing a small smile to his lips.

“Here,” Kendall offers, sitting next to him, lying against the back of the couch, as Roman takes the glass, swallowing a huge gulp immediately. “So, what happened man? He must have gone crazy for you to look like that.”

“He was a touch aggressive in showing his affection,” Roman quips, never taking his eyes off the TV.

“Come on, Rome,” Kendall says seriously, looking around to him as Roman sighs deeply.

“Just everything I already told you, man. He didn’t take me and Gerri well. He took me trying to walk away from getting a lashing even worse,” Roman shrugs a little irritable, taking another sip of his drink.

Kendall simply nods, taking the hint Roman doesn’t really want to talk about it.

They sit silently for over half an hour, watching the game, barely exchanging a word, refilling their glasses, opening up the chips when Roman sees his phone ringing, Shiv’s name reappearing.

“Fucking bitch,” he mumbles, hitting the reject call, as Kendall furrows his eyebrows sceptically.

“What’s that about?” Kendall laughs a little, nodding his head to the phone.

“Nothing.”

A text message comes through immediately after.

****

**_Shiv:_ **

**_Where are you?_ **

Roman can’t help but scoff, rolling his eyes before they return back to the TV; Kendall eventually returning his attention to the game too, until Roman’s phone starts ringing again. He hits the reject button immediately again as Kendall watches.

“No seriously, bro. What’s going on?”

Roman offers a sigh, taking another huge gulp of his scotch.

“Shiv,” is all he offers.

“What’d she do? She not at dad’s?” Kendall asks confused.

“Like I give a flying fuck.”

**_Gerri:_ **

**_Shiv’s trying to phone me again._ **

Roman sees her message appearing on his screen, instantly moving to answer it.

**_Roman:_ **

**_Fucking ignore her. That’s what I’m doing._ **

Much to his surprise, Ken’s phone starts ringing, Shiv’s name appearing on the screen.

“Hey,” he answers, as Roman looks around to him absently before returning it to the screen.

“Hey. Have you heard from Roman at all? You know where he is? If he’s at Gerri’s?” Kendall hears Shiv frantically asking, the sound of traffic and a door slamming accompanying it.

**_Gerri:_ **

**_Yeah, I wasn’t planning on answering._ **

****

“He’s here with me. What’s going on?” Kendall says, as Roman instantly looks around to him angrily.

“Good,” Shiv tells him. “Keep him there. We’re coming over. Just dropped of Willa and Tom.”

“Who the fuck are you talking to?” Roman asks angrily. “Is that Shiv?”

“Who’s we?” Kendall asks her confused.

“IS THAT FUCKING SHIV?” Roman shouts loudly, moving onto his knees.

“Me and Con. How is he?” She answers.

“He’s pretty fucked up,” Kendall answers, looking around to Roman. “Looks like fucking sloth from the Goonies,” he laughs as Roman tries to reach for the phone at Ken’s ear.

“That fucking bad?” Shiv asks surprised.

“Fuck you!” Roman shouts loudly, further jumping towards Kendall. “Give me the fucking phone.”

Kendall reaching his head further away from Roman’s grasp, continuing to laugh at his attempts as he kicks his legs to keep Roman far enough away.

“Yeah. Face like a melted wellie,” Kendall laughs further.

“You piece of fucking shit,” Roman strains with his chest against Kendall’s foot.

“Okay, we’ll be there in ten,” Shiv says quickly.

“Give me the fucking phone!” Roman shouts loudly again, battering Kendall’s leg out the way.

“Cool,” Kendall says hanging up the phone and holding the phone up in surrender. “She’s gone.”

“What the fuck? Why are you speaking to her?! What the fuck did she want?!” Roman shouts angrily, punching him in the thigh as Kendall half winces, half laughs.

“Why are you hiding from her is more the question?”

“She’s an evil ginger cunt, that’s why,” Roman huffs, sitting back down on the couch panting, his eyes going back to the TV.

“What she do? Call Gerri a bad word?” He laughs, reaching for his drink to take a sip.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Roman groans. “What the fuck did she want?”

“She sounds pretty worried about you, dude,” Kendall reasons.

“Yeah, well fuck her. She should have taken it more seriously before then,” Roman spits angrily. “Fucking whore didn’t even believe me until Gerri convinced her. Said I probably provoked it. She doubted it immediately. You didn’t fucking doubt it,” he says heatedly throwing his hand up to Kendall animatedly.

“You know what Shiv’s like,” Kendall tries to brush away. “She doesn’t want to believe anything shit about dad.”

“Yeah, well I don’t fucking appreciate being made out to be a fucking dramatic exaggerator because she can’t handle the fucking truth. It’s not like she hasn’t seen it before. He hit your fucking kid too. It’s not like it’s out of fucking character for him,” Roman says angrily, nursing his drink.

“Yeah,” Kendall sighs sadly. “It’s not. How did Gerri convince her?”

“I don’t fucking know. She literally just said the fucking words and suddenly Shiv was spluttering. She’s like a fucking majestic fucking convincing sorceress. Everyone believes her,” he shrugs.

“Is that where you hid out last night? Gerri’s?” Kendall asks interestedly with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Roman sighs. “Was fucking awkward though. Her kids are visiting for Easter. Her youngest was supposed to be staying with a friend and came home halfway through the night.”

“You weren’t fucking Gerri when her daughter came home or something, were you?” Kendall asks laughing. “She didn’t like walk in on you both, did she?”

“No, fuck no,” Roman refutes. “I just stayed in the bedroom while Gerri handled it. Her daughter actually made us breakfast this morning though,” he darts his eyes at Kendall waiting for a reaction.

“Fuck. You met the kid? Well I suppose she isn’t a kid,” Kendall screws his face up trying to work it out.

“I met both of them,” Roman huffs, running his hands across his eyes.

“Fuck dude,” Kendall huffs. “How’d it go?”

“Uhm… half and half? The youngest, Charlotte; she was pretty cool. Maddie though,” Roman huffs, not completing the sentence.

“That bad? How many kids does Gerri have?”

“Just the two of them.”

“They’re old enough to not be big kids about it though, aren’t they?” Kendall shrugs, reaching for the chips.

“Apparently it’s about Baird though. Like not being over his death. Charlotte seems cool with me, but Maddie doesn’t. Gerri’s convinced she’ll come ‘round. So does Ryan.”

“Who the fuck’s Ryan?”

“Maddie’s husband. He’s cool, too. Bit boring but bearable. Maddie just thinks I’m a dipshit though. Rolled her eyes at basically everything I said.”

“Can you blame her?” Kendall smirks as he passes Roman the chips.

“Hey, fuck you. I’m not a dipshit,” Roman protests.

“Dude,” Kendall laughs. “I think that’s pretty fucking normal. Don’t you remember how Shiv was with dad’s new conquests after mom? With Marcia? And that was just divorce, not death. She was even like that with Rory and she hates mom,” Kendall laughs.

“That’s because he was loser clearly in it for the fortune,” Roman offers, taking a chip.

“And yet we’ve accepted him now. Even if he is a monotonous fuck,” Kendall reminds him.

“Why do you think we didn’t care as much as Shiv about mom and dad’s new relationships? Are we like sociopaths?” Roman asks narrowing his eyes.

“Nah,” Kendall shakes his head. “You didn’t give a fuck about that but remember how you were with the nannies after Scottish Moira died?” He laughs a little. “She was an old hag as well.”

“Fuck up! No, she wasn’t,” Roman argues.

“See?” Kendall laughs. “It’s hard for any kid to see their parental figure replaced, dude. Iverson had a hard adjustment with Ravas new fucking wank-stain, but he’s fine now. She’ll be fine eventually.”

Roman offers a shrug in response, grimacing as he shoves another handful of chips into his mouth.

“I still can’t believe you’re boning, Gerri,” Kendall laughs, shaking his head.

“Fuck up, man.”

“Can’t wait to see both of you in action. Like the dynamic. Does she like cut your food up for you before you eat it? Do you even, you know, hold hands?” Kendall teases, reaching for the chips as Roman pulls them out of his reach.

“Yes, we hold hands you cum dumpster,” Roman confirms with a light lilt.

“I can’t imagine Gerri holding anyone’s hand,” Kendall thinking, turning his head back to the baseball. “Like not even a kid’s hand. She’s always so guarded.”

“There’s more to her than what she let us see through the years,” Roman defends as he thinks about it. “She’s very caring.”

“Believe it when I see it,” Kendall smirks.

“We’re trialling moving in,” Roman reveals confidently, as Kendall looks around surprised.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Roman puffs his chest out. “The Vanity Fair interview hits on Wednesday so she’s coming to mine cause of the underground entrance. Then we have Vienna next week. Gonna try it out for a while to see how we like it.”

“Shit, so it’s moving along quickly?”

“I already fucking told you it was serious,” Roman shouts angrily.

“Calm down, dude. I’m happy for you,” Kendall tries to abate.

“You know the townhouse I bought in London as well? She’s coming in on it with me,” Roman tells him confidently, as though this were proof of how serious the whole thing really was.

“Fuck,” Kendall sighs. “Like paying half for it?” He asks sceptically.

“Yes, she’s paying. Everything equal,” Roman says sharply, looking down at his lock screen to see if there’s anything from her, the notifications lying empty. “What’s happening with Naomi? That still ongoing?”

“She’s doing a bout in rehab just now,” Kendall reveals awkwardly, Roman handing the chips to him.

“Well, that’s good, isn’t it?” Roman asks awkwardly.

“Yeah. It is,” Kendall says quietly.

“Are you two still… together?” He fishes again.

“I don’t know, dude. I’m trying to focus on staying clean and she’s going to be in recovery after, so fuck knows,” he sighs deeply.

“Do you want to be… together?”

“I really don’t know. Like, we have fun and I care about her but like it’s the struggle of two recovering addicts being together. Can either be a support or a hindrance in recovery. So far, it’s not been so helpful,” Kendall huffs loudly, eating a single chip.

“Well then play it by ear for now,” Roman shrugs. “Has there been anyone else catching your eye?” He asks playfully.

“Nah, not really. It’s not been on my mind. The shit with dad going to prison has been taking that spot, you know?”

“Yeah,” Roman sighs. “Maybe you need to just, ya know, get yourself out there and get a distraction?”

“What? Like expensive dinner for a blowjob?” Kendall raises his eyebrows.

“No,” Roman protests with a whine. “Like actually get someone who’s good for you and supportive. Like Rava, but like don’t snort coke before your kids’ birthday party so it actually lasts this time.”

“You’ve changed,” Kendall smiles, as there is a loud pounding on the front door, Roman jumping up onto his knees immediately.

“Who the fuck is that?” Roman asks, wildly looking at the door as Kendall gets up with a laugh.

“Connor and Shiv,” Kendall answers, approaching the door.

“You piece of shit! Why the fuck did you invite them here?! She could be here doing dad’s dirty work! I don’t want to see her!” Roman shouts standing up.

“I didn’t invite her,” he smiles opening the door. “She invited herself.”

“Hey,” Shiv breathes, walking in the door and making eye contact with Roman as he looks to the floor with a grimace, before deciding to lift his head to look at her defiantly.

She takes in his face, her mouth dropping open as Connor follows her in distractedly talking to Kendall before stopping in his tracks when he sees Roman.

“Et tu, Brute?” Roman seethes, narrowing her eyes at her.

“What?” She breathes exasperated, her eyes searching his face.

“Did he send you?” Roman accuses angrily.

“Did who send us?” Connor asks confused.

“Vladimir Putin,” Roman deadpans. “Who the fuck do you think I mean?” He bristles. “Dad.”

“Why would dad send us?” Connor asks again, eying Shiv suspiciously as Kendall watches diligently.

“Why would he send you?” Roman laughs harshly. “I don’t know, because you would literally slaughter the first born of every family if dad told you to? I’m assuming there’s already someone downstairs waiting to drag me back for round two. Well call off your fucking dogs because I’ll fucking fight you.”

“No one’s downstairs, Rome,” Shiv tells him quietly, staring at him with her doe-eyes.

“Yeah right,” Roman scoffs, turning in a circle before pacing towards the TV.

“We’re not here on dad’s bidding. We wanted to see if you were okay,” Connor explains.

“Well I’m fine so fuck off. Get the fuck out of here!” He declares loudly as they remain rooted to the spot.

“Rome,” Ken says carefully. “I don’t think dad sent them.”

“How the fuck do you know?” Roman challenges as he continues staring between the three of them.

“We’re not lying,” Shiv whispers.

“Yeah, okay Mother Theresa. She who can never tell a lie right here!” Roman throws his hand up to her. “Can you still be made a saint when you’re still alive? I’m not sure.”

“Look, if you don’t believe Shiv then believe me,” Connor pipes up. “Have I ever lied to you?”

Roman doesn’t know what to think, looks between them suspiciously, biting his lower lip, his hands perched on his hips as he contemplates it. While Shiv was a regular fucking Brutus, Con wasn’t. He talked a large amount of fucking bullshit, but he didn’t lie. As he starts to believe them, it comes back to him why his anger is flaring so hard just looking at her.

“Believe me now then?” Roman fires angrily at Shiv. “Or do you want to pretend it was someone else who socked me? Maybe it was me? Maybe I beat myself up so I could claim it was him! Or even better maybe it was Gerri? Murder gone wrong so she can rule the company solo. Maybe mom got a plane over here and did it and flew back as a big ploy against dad?”

She remains rooted to the spot, looking at his swollen face, his burst lip, his blackened eye.

“It looks sore, Rome,” Connor shakes his head ignoring his questions, moving forward slowly to him. “Are you okay?” He asks gently, moving to hug him solidly, Roman taking the hug with an eye roll.

“Yeah, yeah,” Roman pulls back awkwardly. “I’m fine. I’m fine.”

“Fuck,” Shiv breathes out as Kendall moves around her.

“You guys want a drink?” Kendall asks, clapping his hands together.

“Yeah, whatever you have,” Shiv answers absently, still staring at Roman as he stares back.

“Oh! Do you have that 1982 stuff you had the last time?” Connor asks interestedly, following him to the bar.

“Well? Is that all you have to say?” Roman challenges her. “No accusations? No elaborate stories you’ve cooked up with your one brain cell?”

Instead, he sees Shiv’s eyes tear up, her mask dropping, as she storms towards him, Roman’s eyes widening in surprise as he takes a few apprehensive steps backwards before Shiv pulls him into a tight hug, squeezing around his neck.

“Ouch! Ouch! Fucking let up!” Roman shouts, pushing her away awkwardly. “Your face is pushing into my face.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I’m sorry,” she says holding onto his upper arms, searching his wounds as he simply looks at her suspiciously.

“For what? For being a massive cunt?” 

“Yeah and for hurting your face,” Shiv offers, finally dropping her arms.

“Yeah, well it’s going to take more than that shitty apology, you fire-breathing gorgon,” he lilts as he sits down with a huff.

“I can’t believe he did this. It’s the worst I’ve ever seen it,” she says unnerved, ignoring him as she moves to the couch off to the side.

“Yeah, well,” is all Roman offers, gesturing to his wounds before taking a sip of his drink.

“What the fuck happened?” She asks exasperated.

“It’s a long story,” Roman shrugs childishly.

“Roman. Come on.”

“Don’t tell without me! I want to hear this!” Connor shouts from the bar, as Roman rolls his eyes.

****

He divulges the story of what happened reticently, taking in their shocked expressions; clearly dad hadn’t told them the whole story.

“So, you tried to leave?” Connor asks shaking his head, holding his drink with both hands between his knees as he leans forward in his seat next to Shiv.

“Yeah. I think that’s what drove him up the wall,” Roman sighs, scratching the side of his head.

“He’s just not used to someone not submitting,” Kendall reasons.

“Yeah, telling him that you’re not going to listen to him is definitely what’s provoked him,” Shiv determines, biting at the skin on her index finger.

“So, you still think I provoked him? Fuck you,” Roman spits angrily, before standing up to refill his drink.

“No! I’m not saying that!” Shiv tries to defend.

“You said it on the phone. Said that I must have taunted him into it,” Roman reminds her as he pours the drink.

“That’s pretty harsh, Shiv. Even for you,” Kendall notes with a stare.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Shiv contends, looking from Kendall to Roman. “I meant that that’s what drives dad crazy. When someone ignores him, makes him look stupid, embarrasses him, defies him, doesn’t treat him like he’s the fucking alpha. We all know that!”

“Yeah, and we’ve _all_ submitted to it,” Roman mumbles as he walks back to the couch with his drink.

“I’m not saying beating you up is the right fucking reaction, Roman! I’m saying that’s why he does it,” she tries to explain.

“Then why the fuck is it only me? Why am I the only one who gets it? He’s never hit you. He’s never hit Kendall. I’m assuming he never hit Connor either. So, what the fuck is it with me?” Roman asks angrily, looking between all of them as they bow their heads. “Why am I the lucky guy?”

“I don’t know,” Shiv answers quietly.

“Well, he was never going to hit Shiv. She’s a girl, so that was always going to seem too brutish,” Kendall reasons.

“He wanted a successor, right?” Connor pipes up as they all look to him confused. “When he realised I didn’t want into that world, he moved onto Kendall as the second oldest to be the main guy. But dad always had this theory that he had to toughen Kendall up for the top job and make him ruthless so he would be a good leader. The only way he could make Kendall feel more alpha was to make Roman the beta for Kendall to feel more powerful over,” Connor explains resolutely.

“This again? That’s not fucking true, dude,” Kendall tries to contend weakly, becoming shifty in his seat.

“I mean,” Shiv sighs. “It’s kinda true.”

“You think dad actively pinned us against each other?” Kendall challenges with suspicion, though his mind had been reeling over this since Connor had brought it up to him at Tom’s bachelor party.

“That explains the fucking dog cage and why dad never stopped it!” Roman pipes up angrily.

“Not back to the dog cage dude,” Kendall huffs, looking down at his drink.

“Yeah, back to the fucking dog cage! He fucking manufactured the whole fucking thing! That’s why I always got the blame for fucking everything you did!” Roman shouts, standing up to pace around the room.

“You didn’t get the blame for everything,” Kendall awkwardly laughs a little.

“I fucking did!” Roman shouts. “Then when Shiv fucked up, I got the blame for that too!”

“Because he couldn’t punish her,” Connor concludes obviously. “Because that was too barbaric.”

“So dad didn’t hit Kendall because hitting him would have made him too feeble?” Shiv asks trying to figure it all out.

“Dude, you also gave it back to him more than anyone else. That’s why you were a target,” Kendall divulges.

“Not at first!” Roman defends. “Only after it wouldn’t stop, and I got fucked off!”

“Roman,” Shiv sighs. “You were the only one who had enough balls to give it to him. You had the charm; you were the only one who could get away with it every so often because everyone just expected it from you towards everyone. Until, you know, he hit you when you took it too far.”

“That doesn’t mean I deserved it!” Roman protests adamantly again.

“I’m not saying that!” Shiv shouts frustrated as she continues to watch Roman pace back and forth. “Fuck! What I’m saying is that all of us were too afraid to stand up to dad! Probably because we saw all the consequences you got from doing it!”

“He probably meant it to be that way. That’s just ancient fucking behaviourism. Like you punish the one criminal/servant/slave for their wrongdoing so severely so that the rest of them toe the line because they’re too afraid of suffering the same fate,” Connor explains seriously.

“It’s not a bad thing, Roman,” Shiv tries to explain. “It doesn’t mean you deserved it. It means that you might have actually been the fucking strongest of us all to actually stand up to him.”

“Or the most stupid for taking him on,” Connor shrugs.

“Maybe we all tried to do it underhandedly because we were too afraid of what really would happen,” Shiv continues, ignoring Connor’s comment.

“I didn’t try and do anything to him,” Connor interjects calmly.

“Well me and Kendall did,” Shiv offers frustrated. “I don’t know! I’m just fucking spouting theories here!”

“I just had enough of being trampled on by him,” Kendall says resigned. “I had enough of feeling like shit.”

“Yeah? Welcome to my world,” Roman rolls his eyes, continuing to pace with his hands on his hips.

“Okay dude, I get it. I fucking dom’d you into being my fucking bitch. Okay, fine,” Kendall says angrily. “But I didn’t fucking mean it! He fucking,” Kendall throws his hands up, stopping abruptly, taking a deep breath as he closes his eyes tightly. “He fucking made us this way, Rome. He fucking Pavlov’d us into fucking doing it and enjoying it okay. I didn’t actively mean to.”

“So, I’m the fucking dog?” Roman throws his hands up, rolling his eyes.

“We both were,” Kendall explains as Shiv looks between them.

“You did enjoy it, Roman,” Connor recalls. “The dog pound.”

“Did I fuck!” Roman protests.

“You did. Maybe you remember it more traumatically. But even if you didn’t enjoy it at the beginning, you did eventually,” Connor reasons with a shrug.

“I need to speak to my therapist man,” Roman sighs, digging his palms into his eyes.

“Look, this isn’t helping,” Shiv interjects, holding her hands up as she uncrosses her legs. “My point, Roman is that the whole reason you got it worse than us was because you gave it back to him and he didn’t like that. You didn’t deserve the consequences but that’s how I see it.”

“And because dad used you to put fear into everyone else to obey him,” Connor adds on at the end casually.

“Con,” Shiv warns, looking around to him, shaking her head for him to quit it.

“But it’s true,” he whispers back quietly.

“Fuck,” Roman sighs, moving back to the couch before plonking down on it heavily, his mind reeling with this newfound revelation.

“Last night would have been no different, Rome. He didn’t like that he wasn’t in command,” Kendall explains. “That you were controlling the situation. He’s used to you submitting to him most of the time after he instils fear and that didn’t happen. Especially, if you told him you chose Gerri over him. That would be a blow.”

Roman sits silently on the couch, his eyes wide, his head reeling as he stares off at nothing. He had to talk this out with Gerri or his therapist or something because while it made sense to him, he didn’t know whether it was accurate. He needed someone intelligent to tell him whether this was plausible.

“So, how did it end?” Shiv asks after a bout of silence. “What happened after he beat you up?”

“I told him he would never hear from me again and I left,” Roman whispers, looking down at his nails scraping the jeans at his thigh.

“Fuck,” Shiv puffs.

“After calling him pathetic and saying he was more to be pitied,” Roman mumbles quickly too.

“You didn’t tell me that?” Kendall sits up suddenly. “No wonder you’re fucking scared he’s coming after you.”

“Yeah, well. I don’t want to speak to him again. And he _is_ pathetic,” Roman says quietly.

“Yeah, but actually telling him that, Rome,” Shiv laughs awkwardly.

“Well, what happened with you when you realised I wasn’t fucking lying?” He challenges her angrily. “What did you say to him? I’m assuming you didn’t stand up to him you shitbag.”

“She kind of did actually,” Connor laughs a little, scratching his ear as Shiv averts her eyes to the ceiling, taking a large sip of her scotch.

“What?” Roman asks sceptically.

“Me and dad were talking about my presidential campaign, I was telling him about how Vermont for some reason rejected my candidacy which in my fucking opinion is censorship at its fucking finest. Like what kind of world are we living in? People should have the freedom of choice and another—,” Connor rants as Roman rolls his eyes, Kendall grimacing.

“Connor! What about Shiv and dad?!” Roman interrupts frustrated, as Shiv looks down at the couch arm, trailing it with her finger to avoid their gaze.

“Well she came in and confronted him about what you said. Telling him that you said you’d been beaten up and asking if it was true,” Connor smiles simply.

“You did?” Kendall asks with raised eyebrows.

“Yeah right,” Roman laughs a little.

“I wanted the truth,” Shiv shrugs nonchalantly.

“Nah,” Connor interjects as Shiv rolls her eyes. “When he started going off insulting Gerri and you, and calling Gerri for everything, she defended you and told him to stop stalling and tell her whether he had hit Roman or not.”

“What did he say?” Roman breathes, on the edge of his seat.

“His hand slipped when he tried to get you to stay,” Shiv says quietly, looking into Roman’s eyes as he sighs deeply.

“That you were a traitor, and Gerri had led you up the garden path so she could get the power,” Connor confirms, as Roman rolls his eyes.

“Why does everyone think this is fucking Gerri?” Roman blows up, looking around to them. “It’s nothing to do with her! For fuck sake!”

“Calm down, Rome,” Kendall says, clapping his hand on Roman’s shoulder.

“No! Fuck this! Why is so hard to believe that someone fucking loves me for me and not as a fucking business move?” Roman asks angrily.

“I believe you,” Kendall tries to soothe, Roman putting his head in his hands, panting loudly.

“I do, too,” Connor offers as Shiv narrows her eyes.

“You said that dad went on at you about what Baird said about Gerri? You think that’s true? That she was conniving?” Shiv asks him as though she’s trying to solve a puzzle.

“Shiv! Don’t start man,” Kendall admonishes her.

“I’m not fucking doubting anything!” She protests. “I’m just asking.”

“She seemed upset at the suggestion of it,” Roman mumbles with his hands dug deep into his eye sockets. “She didn’t say but you could see she looked upset. There was a lot going on, so I don’t know.”

“I didn’t even know Baird had it in him. He always seemed boring to me,” Shiv observes looking around to them all.

“Gerri was General Counsel by the time I was in, so I didn’t really encounter him,” Kendall shrugs. “Though I remember people talking about his girlfriend on the side.”

“What the fuck,” Roman looks around to him. “You never said anything.”

“I didn’t think it was top news, dude,” Kendall shrugs.

“Yeah,” Connor nods. “I remember him always eying the cocktail waitresses. He pointed one out to me once at a party, trying to set me up with her. When I wasn’t into it because I was with Jennifer, he said he was going in if I didn’t. But I didn’t really think anything of it. Half the guys in Waystar did worse than that.”

“Baird? My godfather Baird? How didn’t I see that shit? I was probably around him more than any of you with forced visits,” Shiv challenges.

“It’s kind of a guy thing,” Connor shrugs.

“Fuck,” Shiv sighed. “Did Gerri know?”

Roman remains silent, completely aware that Gerri wouldn’t want him to discuss it with his siblings, however, his silence is golden.

“And she put up with it?” Shiv asks incredulously. “I thought she would have had him by the balls.”

“Look can we stop talking about this?” Roman asks trying to shut the whole thing down.

“Was it like an open relationship? Did she cheat as well?” Shiv asks curiously.

“Fuck no!” He protests. “She didn’t cheat.”

“Fuck,” Shiv sighs. “You never really know a person.”

“Or a relationship,” Roman reminds her. “Which is why everyone needs to stop judging mine.”

“Okay, dude,” Kendall pipes up. “Calm down. No one’s judging it. So, how did it end with dad?” He says trying to change the subject again, trying to remind Roman of the good that Shiv actually did do.

“Shiv went nuts and told us all to get our stuff so we could come find you,” Connor divulges before she can make something up, Roman looking at her calmly as she fidgets awkwardly in her seat.

“How did dad take that?” Kendall encourages.

“He wasn’t happy about it,” Connor reveals quietly.

“So, he’s up there alone when he’s going in tomorrow?” Kendall asks quietly.

Roman thinks back to what he had said last night about his dad being alone. He wants to feel regret but he can’t; not when his face was blown open.

“I told him I wanted to make sure you weren’t hurt, okay?” Shiv says frustrated. “Jesus. It’s not like I’m fucking heartless.”

“Previous history hasn’t exactly supported that Bellatrix LeShiv,” Roman quips.

“Fuck you,” Shiv retorts with her eyes narrowed.

“You love me, don’t you?” Roman taunts. “Your little withered black heart must be freaking the fuck out.”

“Shut up or I’m going to give you another black eye,” Shiv threatens.

“Good luck with dealing with his legal assassin girlfriend if you do that. She’ll fucking Mo Green you,” Kendall jokes as Roman laughs a little.

“I wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of Gerri,” Connor reveals thoughtfully.

“Yeah, I’m quivering in my fucking boots at what the ancient queen mother has in store,” Shiv rolls her eyes.

“Hey man, the queen mother is apparently the one who had Diana offed,” Connor adds.

“Instead of the People’s Princess, you’ll be more like Sing Sing’s princess,” Kendall teases.

“Shiv, don’t act like you didn’t shit yourself when she gave you a dressing down,” Roman says with a laugh, as Shiv rolls her eyes.

“I didn’t shit myself,” Shiv fires back.

“Oh yeah,” Roman laughs, making a splurging noise.

“You’re such a kid,” Shiv says narrowing her eyes as Kendall laughs.

“Speaking of kids, where is Tom and Willa?” Roman smirks.

“Hey!” Connor protests loudly.

“We dropped them off,” Shiv offers with a pointed look.

“Why? Couldn’t they handle this luscious face being so maimed?” Roman asks.

“Afraid it would give Willa nightmares? Too R rated? I suppose she wouldn’t be allowed into an R rated movie yet, would she?” Kendall asks with a smirk as Roman chuckles.

“You know what? You’re an asshole,” Connor fires resolutely.

“What about Tom? He’d probably get too turned on? I’d look too brutish and he would just cream all over the place? Sorry Kendall, there’s a new alpha male in town,” Roman jokes, looking around to him with fluttering eyelashes.

“Dude, don’t,” Kendall says seriously, looking down at his drink sheepishly.

“Oh my god. Can no one make a joke anymore,” Roman smirks.

“So, are we getting food or what?” Shiv puffs, changing the conversation so it doesn’t go back to Tom.

“Didn’t you eat at dad’s?” Kendall asks with furrowed eyebrows.

“Didn’t you hear Connor? We left. So, I’m thinking Chinese,” Shiv says, pulling her phone out.

“Can’t we have something a little more organic?” Connor grimaces.

“Yeah, sure dude. Shiv, I’ll have chicken chow mein and get Connor a side of rabbit food,” Roman jokes, laying back harder into the back of the couch as Kendall smiles at him, whilst Connor rolls his eyes.

“Whatever, I’ll have the same,” Kendall agrees with a huff.

Roman remains silent as Kendall types on his phone, feeling a little more relaxed than he was before. He can’t stop thinking over what they had said; about their theories of why their dad did what he did. If it were true, it made his dad more fucked up than he ever considered by consciously manipulating his own children like they were a social experiment rather than just losing your temper every so often. But for the first time ever, he seems to feel a bit lighter. Whilst his confidence had grown in the last year, he had always wondered why it was only him who was on the receiving ends of the physical abuse. Why he always seemed the one to flip his dad’s switch more than anyone else. The idea that there was a genuine reason for it, that didn’t really pertain to him specifically, but rather it being that his dad just needed a punching bag for Kendall; it was somehow easier. Like it wouldn’t matter who he was, what he did, what he looked like, what he was interested in, who he fucked; he just happened to be the one there for that end goal. It’s fucked up and it make him hate his father even more but his focus moves to what Shiv said about it maybe meaning he was stronger than any of them for being the only one who ever did challenge his dad directly. He had never thought of it like that.

“Do they have like some unprocessed ginger or cabbage curry or something like that?” They hear Connor asking Shiv as she remains silent; Roman offering a small smirk.

****

They had stayed up all night; talking shit, insulting one another, eating chips, smoking, drinking, delving further into the fucked-up bullshit that was their childhood.

Shiv and Connor had left just after 3am; Roman and Kendall going to bed not long after.

He sent a mushy text to Gerri; telling her about Shiv and Connor’s arrival and professing how great she was after feeling guilty about everything she had had to put up with in regard to him for the last few weeks.

He wakes up to a phone call from her in the morning, much to his glee.

“Hey,” he grins widely, stretching in his bed.

“Hi,” she says gently. “I’ve just had word your dad’s on the way to the prison. I know you wanted to watch the coverage.”

“Oh okay,” he groans, looking at his watch to see the time.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” he sighs.

“You were up late last night,” she offers lightly, and he can hear the smirk on the other end of the phone. “I got your text.”

“Oh, yeah? Did you rub one out over it?” He asks with a laugh.

“You’re sick. Do you know that?” She jibes.

“Oh baby. Tell me more,” he groans, laughing.

“So, Shiv and Connor showed up,” she trails of absently. “What happened?”

“I’ll tell you about it tonight.”

“Okey. You really don’t have to apologise for anything, you know. That’s what couples do. They support each other when the shit hits the fan,” she tells him as he grins at the reference to them being a couple.

“Yeah, I know. But the fan has been particularly shitty for you in the last few weeks and I wanted to thank you for being so great because I’ve been a neurotic mess,” he tells her softly.

“You’ve not been, Rome. And I’m not perfect, honey, as much as you profess me to be. It’ll still be hard for the next few weeks until everything settles down. Then something else shitty will appear after that and so on and so on. That’s life. But we have each other for support. And we just need to balance out the shitty with the rosy.”

“So, you want roses? I can get you roses,” he jokes.

“You’re a pain in my ass. You know that? I’m trying to be serious.”

“I know,” he says seriously, smiling. “Well, I’ll make sure it’s rosier from now on.”

“That’s for both of us to do,” she retorts.

“Then you better get thinking cause my mind is already reeling with ideas.”

“Let me guess, buy me a desert island so we can run away there and live naked, running free, fucking on the beach as only the Rockstar and the Molewoman can do,” she smirks.

“No, but that’s a great idea. Good thinking, Molewoman.”

“Well, I’ll leave you to your ruminating ideas,” she laughs. “I need to try and get a little bit packed before we go out.”

“Where you going?”

“Brunch and shopping with the girls since we couldn’t the other day. Maybe a museum. Will play it by ear.”

“You know,” he begins reticently. “The interview won’t be out until Wednesday so if it’s easier you can move in tomorrow? Means you won’t need to take time away with the girls by packing.”

“Oh, don’t you worry about that! We already did most of it last night. It became a whole thing after you left where they decided on outfits for me to wear in Vienna. I think Maddie’s leaving at three for the airport, so after that Charlotte and I are going to come back and do the rest of it. Then when she leaves at half seven, I’ll head over. Unless there’s a reason you wanted me to come tomorrow?”

“No! Fuck no! Just wanted to give you the option,” he smiles. “Do you want me to get dinner at mine or are you eating with Charlotte?”

“I’ll probably eat with Charlotte. If we’re having brunch early, then we’ll likely skip lunch and be starving by four or five.”

“Okay. Well, I’ll be there. Ready and waiting,” he smiles.

“Good. I expect a full reception. Like in _Annie_. The footmen doing backflips and the maids dancing, with a full choreographed singing number.”

“I can arrange that,” he smirks.

“Don’t you dare,” she laughs as he does too. “Look, I need to go. Need to do a little more packing before it comes on the news.”

“Yeah, I need to wake up Ken. We said we’d watch it together.”

“All right, Rome. If you need anything just phone, okay?”

“You too, Molewoman.”

“You going to be okay?”

“Yeah. Promise.”

“Okey, honey. Love you, bye.”

“Love you, bye.”

****

Both of them are settled on Kendall’s couch with a scotch as PGM had displayed a large number of photographers and reporters waiting outside the prison in anticipation of Logan’s arrival.

He can’t believe it’s really happening. It doesn’t feel real.

“I put a million on him punching a reporter,” Roman tries to jest as they wait.

“I put a million on him telling them to fuck off,” Kendall jibes back.

“Well that’s just a fucking given. That’s like putting a fucking bet on the sun rising in the east. Or Karl getting caught in a sex dungeon. Or me falling asleep in Frank’s part of the meeting,” Roman dismisses with a smirk.

“He’s really going in, isn’t he? Like into the big house?”

“Yup,” Roman pops, his eyes glued to the TV.

“And I put him there. Like does that make me like the worst child that ever lived?”

“Nah. We all played a part in it,” Roman reasons. “He played the biggest part. It’s not like he didn’t do the things he was found guilty of. He had to know it would happen one day, right?”

“I don’t think he believed it would ever happen,” Kendall sighs.

It doesn’t take long until the black Rolls Royce finally shows up; Logan getting out alone with a bodyguard trying to push the flocking media away. Roman and Kendall both finding themselves leaning forward onto the edge of the couch, watching every flicker of Logan’s expressions to see if they could see any semblance of emotion.

Roman had expected to see some kind of fear, some kind of apprehension; however, he sees nothing. He can’t think how he would look if it were him facing the end of his life in a cell. He wonders if his dad is a sociopath or if he really did just think he was invincible and would somehow get out of it.

They watch as he pushes past the photographers, muttering expletives, until he gets beyond a barrier of security stopping the reporters and photographers moving any closer to the doors.

This is it, Roman thinks. The last time he’ll see his dad.

It’s then that his dad turns his head towards the photographers as his security guard opens the door to the building for him.

They see him giving a small smirk which disappears as soon as it arrives before he walks in the door, the security guard allowing it to close behind them.

It unsettles Roman. The smirk. Trying to understand its meaning.

“Did he just fucking smile?” Kendall asks with a laugh.

“Yeah,” Roman breathes.

“Fuck,” Kendall puffs, leaning back onto the couch, swallowing the remainder of his glass. “I can’t believe that’s it over. Just like that.”

“I know,” Roman whispers, as he drains the rest of his drink, getting up and walking to get more, as Kendall frowns, standing up.

“It’ll be me next,” Kendall realises, sombrely.

“Don’t say that,” Roman whines.

Roman silently pours himself a drink, draining it as Kendall walks slowly towards him, watching as Roman pours a second drink.

“You okay, bro?” Kendall asks him as he stands at his side.

“Yeah,” he huffs. “Want a top up?”

“Yeah, sure,” Kendall agrees, holding up his empty glass as he stares at Roman’s expression. “I’m glad you’re okay, dude. I mean that, you know? I’m glad you’re away from all that shit with dad and like on track with Gerri. Even if she is ages with Betty White.”

“She’s not fucking old, you dickhead!” Roman protests, pulling the drink away and putting the cap on.

“I’m kidding,” Kendall laughs. “I’m serious about you being happy though. I’m glad you’re like getting a clear path out of all the bullshit. And I’m sorry if in the past I’ve been,” he trails off, coughing awkwardly. “If I’ve been like… aggressive or uhm…”

“Calm down, dude. We were all fucking gaslighted. Just, you know, be aware of it in the future,” Roman says bringing his drink up to his lips, raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah. Definitely,” Kendall nods awkwardly.

Roman’s distracted by his phone pinging, moving over to the couch to sit down as Kendall follows him quietly.

**_Gerri:_ **

**_Hope you’re okay, honey. Love you._ **

****

“Uhm… to new beginnings?” Kendall offers, raising his glass as Roman grins looking at the text.

“New beginnings,” Roman lifts his drink, clinking it with his.


End file.
